Lone Socks and Paper Coffee Cups
by UselessWreckage
Summary: Modern/University AU. Eventual Merlin/Arthur and Lancelot/Gwen. Arthur makes Merlin an offer he can't refuse, and which starts a new and daunting chapter in his life. Rated T because of swearing. Warnings: Mentions of the Bosnian war. Not explicit, but possibly clueless. Oh, and I somehow managed to spoil the end of Some Like It Hot.
1. The Move

Merlin was packing the last of his things. It was odd, seeing the living room almost emptied of his presence, none of his socks hiding under the coffee table, no crumpled t-shirts by the TV, no textbooks half open on the floor. His bedding had left its habitual place under the sofa he had slept on for a year, and was now packed away safely in one of the three large trash bags leaning on the wall. He was unsure which one; he would have to rediscover that when he got to his destination.

"Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?" he asked. It was the millionth time, yet he couldn't help himself. Gaius rolled his eyes.

"Merlin," he said, gently, but with a distinct touch of impatience, I'll be _fine_. I'm not a helpless old man, you know. I lived on my own for many years before you came to stay."

Of course, Merlin knew that. Though he looked ancient, Gaius still worked as a chemist, and had proved a great help to Merlin when he got stuck on various papers and labs for his classes. Merlin had tried to be of help to his host, doing work around the house and assisting him with anything that he could, and he was sure they'd grown to be friends, but it had, after all, been a favour owed to his mother that had compelled Gaius to take him in in the first place. Maybe, the boy thought to himself, he had been more than a burden than a help. In that case, getting rid of Merlin would be a blessing, and leaving Gaius behind was a good idea for the both of them.

That is, providing it was a good idea for Merlin, which remained to be seen.

It was a bit surreal, really, this move. He had been reluctant to show Arthur that he lived in a tiny flat on an old man's sofa, a good two and a half hours away from campus even on the fairly efficient Camelot Underground. He had not, however, expected that when this be revealed, Arthur would suggest, no, _demand_ that Merlin take residence in the spare room in the flat he shared with his sister. Merlin had stuttered out some inquiries as to what Morgana would say on the matter, but apparently she was all in favour, and Arthur was adamant. It was not that Merlin didn't want to live in a more spacious, practical and central spot. He should like the idea, and he did, he rejoiced in it, apart from that niggling little part of him that reminded him that this was just another way in which he was now indebted to Arthur and his family.

It was a fund started by the Pendragon family and their company that had provided the grant for "excellency in chemistry" that he had won, and which had assured that he was able to afford the university fees. It was a bit difficult to forget that, especially when his friendship with Arthur was the way it was - he sometimes felt like hanging out with Merlin was something of a charity venture on Arthur's part. Merlin didn't have many friends, so Arthur, and to a certain extent his sister Morgana, did make a great difference. His best friend Gwen was not a Pendragon, but then, she was at the university on account of the same grant that Merlin himself had gotten a piece of, and so in a way, he had them to thank for her as well. And now, the young Pendragons had elected to provide him with housing. He was grateful, if a little disconcerted, because he had no idea what he could possibly do in return. Become a great researcher and take a job in their company, attempting to be as much of a benefit as possible? Yes, well, he was planning to do that anyway.

He took one last sweep of Gaius's flat. In the corner in the bathroom he found his electric shaver lying idle. As he picked it up, he heard a sharp knock on the front door, promptly followed by its opening creak. Someone had come in who had no patience to wait for him or Gaius to open for them. Three guesses who _that_ was.

"You all packed, Merlin?"

"As good as," Merlin answered as he scrambled out of the bathroom. Arthur was leaning casually against the wall next to the bags, looking about him with uninterested disdain.

"Hurry up, will you," he commented as he picked at the opening of the closest bag. "You're taking the rubbish out?" he asked listlessly.

"Those are my things."

Arthur raised his eyebrows as he peeked into the bag.

"It _looks _like garbage," he commented.

Merlin tugged the bag out of his grip and placed the shaver on top before he tied it together like the two others. He did not reply to Arthur's comment.

"Ready?" asked Arthur.

"Ready," Merlin nodded. He then turned back to look at Gaius again. "Thanks for letting me stay," he said, "It's been great. You've been a good help, too, and… Thanks."

Gaius simply looked at him as if he were an idiot, and gave him a brief hug.

"My pleasure," he said, with a smile. He held onto Merlin's shoulder. "You look after yourself, boy."

Merlin nodded.

"I will. And I, eh, I'll come visit!"

Arthur gave him a hand with shoving his luggage into a taxi outside, and they were off. Merlin was having a rare contemplative moment, so it fell to Arthur to start the conversation.

"Honestly, Merlin, how you've survived this year is beyond me. Have you really been sleeping on that sofa? _Every_ night?"

Merlin drew his gaze from the window.

"It's a comfy sofa," he assured him.

"And all the way out here! How about the times've you been out late? I _know_ for a fact that you've been out late, you've come clubbing with me at least twice. Did you even get back that late at night?"

He had gone clubbing with Arthur exactly twice. Merlin didn't very much enjoy clubbing - that is, he didn't really have the money, and he never remembered much anyway, due to being a cursed lightweight when it came to alcohol. And Arthur's friends were, well. They weren't the people he would have chosen if _he_ had the pick of the world. He didn't want any of this to show too much, though, and so he kept quiet about it.

"Gwen let me sleep on her floor."

He could see Arthur tense up involuntarily, his hand suddenly gripping the seat if was resting on tight. Merlin smiled a little bit. Sometimes Arthur was just too easy to read. He had a sweet spot for Gwen, and was obviously jealous of the chance to spend a night in her room.

"That must have been uncomfortable," he said, his voice remaining calm and unchanged.

"It wasn't that bad. I was wasted by then anyway, so I could have fallen asleep just about anywhere."

Arthur shook his head.

"You really need to raise your standards, Merlin."

As if everyone could afford the same standards Arthur held. But Merlin said nothing of his friend's damned presumptuousness. This was not the right time to be blunt. The coming time stretched out in his mind like a blank sheet - he could not imagine what it would be like to live with the Pendragon siblings. It scared him a bit, but if there was a time in life to take chances, then surely this was it.


	2. The Test

Merlin was not at his brightest in the morning, nor was he at his quickest. The best thing about his move was definitely the short way to campus - no more having to account for an extra couple of hours if the train was late or the traffic horrid. Just a walk of twenty minutes at the most, and he was at the science building. Really, he should be grateful enough to swear eternal service to the house of Pendragon just for that. However, a thing he definitely _was_ in the morning, regardless of gratitude, was grumpy. So when he was desperately trying to butter his toast at seven AM while feeling like he was in a trance, the sight of Arthur sauntering out of his room casually, with no shirt on, and _smiling_, he was hard pressed to feel particularly grateful. As if he could sense the annoyance felt on the other side of the room, Arthur turned and grinned wider.

"Morning, Merlin!" he laughed, "You look absolutely terrible."

Merlin grunted.

"I have an exam today…" he explained, his voice muffled by the residues of sleep which refused to let go.

"…So you decided to stay up until four revising. My, aren't you just a cliché of an idiot student."

He did not deign to respond to that with anything other than a mumbled, grumpy sound, which appeared to amuse Arthur greatly. Merlin eyed him with contempt as he strutted around, making himself a sandwich by the looks of things. Merlin had always been suspicious of men who walked around with their shirts off in front of other people, seemingly without a care in the world. There was something unnerving about that kind of confidence, almost disgusting. He had to admit, alas, that Arthur had no reason _not _to be confident in showing off his torso, and somehow this made his tendency to lounge around in his boxers all the more irritating. It was as if he was rubbing it in - 'Look at me, Merlin! This is exactly how attractive you will never, ever be!' Oh, great. Thanks for that.

Toast in mouth, Merlin grabbed his bag and hurried out the door.

"Good luck on the exam!" Arthur called out behind him.

"Hnkh," he spluttered through the bread, his rather pathetic attempt at a thank you.

The test was manageable, fortunately. Whatever the lack of sleep had done to his mood was made up for by the reward for the work he had been doing while neglecting the seductive call of his soft, warm bed. By the time the exam was over, he was in a much better mood. As the swarm of chemistry students got up to leave, he found Gwen quickly enough and headed out with her to the lecturer's last announcement.

"Oh, and your papers from last week are graded. The hard copies have been put up on the shelf by the office, you can pick them up by student ID number."

"That's quicker than usual," she remarked.

"He must have sped through," he agreed, "Like a race car."

Merlin's paper was nearly at the top when they got there. He flipped it open to the last page, not bothering to look through it; right now he was interested in the overall score, not the details.

"An eighty!" he exclaimed, pleased.

"Oh, well done," said Gwen as she looked through the stack for her own, "That's a First, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is."

He put the paper down in his bag, relieved. It was not that he tended to get bad grades, he just always feared that he would. When he looked back to Gwen, though, his paper left his mind completely. She had found her own one at last, and was staring at it dumbly, seemingly in shock.

"What is it?" he asked, concerned. When she didn't answer, he forced his head over her shoulder to see what was on the paper. His worry instantly turned to glee.

"A hundred," he read out loud, "A hundred percent!"

As he said this, it was as if Gwen returned to reality. She looked back at him, her open mouth spreading into a grin.

"This calls for celebration!" he bombastically announced as they left the building. A few other students were giving him disapproving looks, surly students coming in for ten o'clock lectures, not yet having left the state he himself had been in when he arrived. He pitied them, but the glory of Gwen's outstanding success demanded his attention at the moment.

"Celebration? Aren't you taking this a little far?" she asked, smiling.

"Nonsense. _Nobody_ gets a hundred, you've achieved a fucking miracle," he insisted, "Let's go buy you coffee. Tell me you're not just dying for a cappuccino!"

"Merlin, I'm low on cash at the moment, I am not sure I can afford to -"

"I'm buying," he interjected hastily.

"You're going to buy me coffee?"

"Well, you _deserve _it, that's my point! And I've got a job now remember? It's up to me how I spend those money."

It was true, he had recently managed to find employment stacking shelves at a supermarket some afternoons of the week. His company in the job was two angry looking teenage girls and one confused man who seemed to have trouble speaking English, so it didn't seem like it was going to be the most fun he'd ever had, but the extra cash was very welcome.

"Oh, alright then," said Gwen finally, and Merlin pumped his fist in the air victoriously.

"Yessss!"

Gwen shook her head over him, but she did so amiably, and he was sure she was very glad to be bought a nice coffee.

As they waited for their coffees, Gwen set herself up for some teasing by asking one simple question.

"How's Arthur?"

Merlin grinned wide.

"Why would you ask after _him_, I wonder?"

"I, er." Gwen was not cursed with the easy blush that overcame Merlin whenever he felt slightly awkward, but she had tells that he could read just as easily. And that embarrassed smile was one of them. "I just, you know, he's your flatmate, it's polite to ask, isn't it?"

"Hm, yes. Morgana's my flatmate too, though. Why are you not asking after _her_?"

"Because I see her all the time," the slight panic in Gwen's voice belied the logic in her argument, "I know how she is doing much better than you do!"

Merlin raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Fine, fine. Arthur's fine."

"Good. I'm glad."

There was a brief silence before he asked her, his voice more serious now.

"I just don't see what the problem is. I _know_ you, Gwen. You obviously like him, he obviously likes you…"

"Does he, though?" she interrupted.

"Well - he kissed you, didn't he?"

She sighed, staring off out the window, seeming the very image of someone in deep contemplation.

"If only it were that simple. He's so hard to read. One moment he likes me, the next…" she shook her head, "I just don't need that kind of ambivalence in my life right now."

"Hm," said Merlin. He didn't quite know what else to say. To him Arthur read perfectly, but maybe there were things Gwen saw that were invisible to him.

He decided to go for a physical gesture rather than words, which proved disastrous, as his attempt to put his hand on her shoulder only resulted in him hitting a waiter, who he hadn't spotted until now, in the shoulder. As a result, the coffee they had been waiting for - which the waiter had been carrying - was knocked over and spilled on the table.

"Oh God!" said Merlin, "I'm so sorry!"

The waiter, as well, was apologising profusely.

"I'm sorry, sorry, oh dear, let me get this…"

An exemplary professional, he had a cloth in his apron pocket, seemingly just for such an occasion.

"Really, we are sorry," Gwen insisted on Merlin's behalf.

"No, no, it was my fault, really," the waiter said, looking up at her from wiping the table clean, "I should have the balance to withstand a little bump."

"That's - that's perfectly fine… Lancelot," she said, evidently reading his name from his badge.

"Please, call me Lance."

There it was again, that little involuntary smile. Merlin watched the scene unfold with great interest and amusement.

"I'll get you some new coffees right away…" said Lance, letting the sentence hover in anticipation of a name to add to the end.

"Gwen," she hastily filled in, "Short for Guinevere."

"Guinevere."

As Lancelot walked away, Merlin smirked.

"Well!" he said, "Wasn't that taken straight out of a romantic comedy? I didn't know things like that happened in real life!"

Gwen buried her face in her hands.

"Looks like Arthur's got competition."

"Shut up, Merlin."

Now he was genuinely laughing.

"And how can you say you and Arthur weren't meant to be? You even _sound_ like him!"


	3. The Visit

"There's no use hiding it, honey, Merlin tells me there was definitely a number written on your napkin… No, tell me! Come on, Gwen, did you call him? Gwen! Gwe-"

Morgana looked at her phone and exhaled with irritation. From the chair she was lounging in, she looked over to Merlin the sofa to find sympathy. He shrugged apologetically.

"She can be so _impossible_!" she exclaimed as the door opened.

"Who's impossible?" her brother asked as he entered, hauling his sports bag in with him. His hair was wet with rain and sweat, and when he ran his hand through it, Merlin was glad he was out of range of the spray emitted.

"Gwen is," said Morgana, "Apparently, she hit it off with some good looking lad the other day and might very possibly have a hot date on her hands."

"Yet she will not give us any detail!" Merlin added.

"Which is terribly rude of her. We are her best friends, after all."

He could see Arthur freeze for a fraction of a second when Morgana informed him of Gwen's potential romance, but he got a hold of himself almost immediately, going about his business.

"And isn't she lucky to have you," he commented drily.

"Well, good luck with that. I'm going to take a shower."

"Thank fuck for that, I can smell you all the way over here!"

As a response, Arthur flung a filthy sock straight at Merlin's face. He ducked with a slight panicky squawk, and the sock landed helplessly on the other side of the table. He looked back at his attacker with triumph, but Arthur was not interested in his lack of success, already heading off in the direction of the bathroom. Merlin eyed him as he went. He felt a little bit bad for supporting Gwen's advances towards someone else, when he knew the way Arthur felt about her. But if he was as bad at communicating it as her account seemed to imply, then maybe he had it coming. Besides, if he had to be perfectly honest, the idea of Arthur and Gwen in a relationship didn't sit perfectly with him. He wasn't sure why - maybe it was just the fear that with the two of them being his closest friends, they would be so preoccupied with each other that he would be left alone. It's never a good feeling when your friends very explicitly like each other much more than they like you.

"Oh, yes, while we're talking about Gwen" said Morgana as the hiss of the shower spray filled the background soundscape, "Do you think she'll mind letting you sleep on her floor on Tuesday?"

"Um, I don't know, I don't see why not…" with a grin, he added, "Unless she's planning to have Lance over. Why?"

"Well, you see, Uther's coming to visit, and he kind of doesn't know you're living here."

"Oh," said Merlin, then decided that he was still a little bit confused, and added a "What?"

"Well, _we_ see it as a favour to a friend, but I'm afraid our dear father wouldn't be too happy to know Arthur's taken in a lodger for free. We'll hide your stuff in our rooms, he believes yours is still the guest room."

"Right… Right, okay. Of course, I'll run away for the day."

He smiled at her, glad of the warning. His room was an absolute mess, and he wouldn't have loved to have to vacate it at a moment's notice. He wondered briefly why Morgana was the one to tell him and not Arthur, who he did spend a lot more time with.

An unrelated thought then occurred to him, and he hesitated a moment before speaking again.

"Morgana, if you don't mind me asking - why do you refer to your father by his given name? Arthur just calls him 'dad'."

She grimaced.

"Ack, you don't want to know our ridiculously complicated family history."

"No, go on," he insisted.

"Well, I didn't grow up with Uther - I didn't even know he was my dad until my stepfather died when I was ten."

"Oh - I'm sorry," said Merlin. Now he felt bad for pressing the matter.

"Yeah, so am I," Morgana commented pensively. She seemed distant for a second, lost in thought, then it was as if she snapped back to reality. "Ah, but really. We all have our childhood traumas. Arthur never knew his mother."

Merlin nodded. He knew that story better than he'd care to. Missing parents seemed to be a recurring theme in his circle of acquaintances.

"Anyway," said Morgana, getting up from her chair, "I shall have to use the mirror in my own room now that my brother has occupied the bathroom. Much like a certain common friend of ours, I have a date to get ready for."

He chuckled.

"So you do think she's going to go for it?"

"Oh, definitely!" she replied, closing the door to her room behind her.

Later in the evening, with Morgana off wherever on her date, Merlin was bored out of his wits. He was, for once, pretty much on top of his workload, and he felt like chatting. Arthur was being very poor company, sat there in the chair Morgana had occupied earlier, reading a heavy volume about economics and looking dreadfully serious about it.

"Why are you reading that?"

"It's for class, idiot."

"You're taking business, though, not economics."

Arthur looked up, unamused.

"There are economics modules in this course. It's a pretty vital part of business."

"If you say so."

"I do."

He didn't really say anything more than that, though. He went back to his reading, and the conversation died, leaving Merlin in a renewed state of tedium. After a few moments of silence, he made an attempt at a new one.

"I wonder what house Morgana is in."

Two seconds went by before Arthur sighed.

"I'm going to regret this and I know it, but… What are you on about?"

Merlin smiled with triumph and twisted around to face Arthur.

"Hogwarts house, like in Harry Potter. I mean, _you_ are obviously a Gryffindor, what with your sportsmanship and your showing off and everything. Gwen, well, she's clever enough to be a Ravenclaw, but more importantly she is kind and incredibly hard working, so she's a clear Hufflepuff. If Morgana was a Ravenclaw, we'd have all the houses represented, but I'm not sure whether she is, or if she's a Slyhterin, like me."

He was well aware that he had lost Arthur very early on in his speech. The expression that met him was a mouth half-open in utter incomprehension, and eyebrows raised almost in disgust. Arthur shook his head as he closed his mouth.

"Well, she's certainly _evil_, isn't that what Slytherin is about?" He snorted. "I don't see what _you'd _be doing there. You don't belong in the 'evil' house, you belong in the 'annoying' one, whichever that is."

"No, no," insisted Merlin, "Slytherin is not about being evil, it's about ambition, and cunning! Not being afraid to do what it takes to get what you want. Subtlety and all that. I am definitely a Slytherin, all the online tests say so. As was the wizard Merlin, in the books."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"It's a children's book, Merlin," he sighed as he got up, "Grow up and leave me some peace to study."

Merlin tried half-heartedly to laugh as Arthur left for his room. It didn't work very well, and when he was left alone, every trace of a smile disappeared. Arthur often put him down as a joke, but more and more, even stupid little conversations like this convinced him he really was getting on his flatmate's nerves. He feared that Arthur might be regretting taking him in. Maybe that's why he hadn't told him that Uther was coming - perhaps he wanted his father to step in and kick Merlin out, so he wouldn't have to do it himself.

Making a mental note to himself to stop being so bloody paranoid, he got up and wandered back to his own room - the living room just didn't seem that appealing a place to be anymore, now that he'd lost both his conversation partners quite permanently.


	4. The Fight

"See you guys later!"

"Bye, Morgana! Have fun!"

And so she was off to some society party again. Merlin was not sure how many societies Morgana was in, but there seemed to be enough of them to keep her evenings occupied almost constantly. And if there was no society gathering, she was off to some club, or on a date with some guy or other. Perhaps he should envy her extraordinarily active social life? He had no idea how she could possibly have the energy for it, and still somehow manage to pass her degree. Personally, he stayed home most of the time, and he still had to struggle to keep up. Maybe a sociology degree required less work than one in chemistry.

He was left looking at the door for a few seconds after it shut behind her. Then he turned to Arthur.

"So Morgana doesn't share your interest in the family business, then?"

"I suppose not," Arthur answered unenthusiastically.

Yet again, he was sat in that armchair reading a book pertaining to his studies. Merlin could have sworn that Arthur had not been the studious of the two - while Merlin was preoccupied with his assignments and his labs almost constantly, his flatmate seemed more interested in mildly violent and dangerous mayhem on the rugby field. But here they were, Arthur with his nose in a book and Merlin trying to lure him into a conversation of some sort, against his better judgement.

"But you are."

"So it would appear."

"Is that why you're working so much, you're hyper-preparing for taking over the company?"

He received a deadly glare.

"I respect what my father has built," Arthur said seriously, "And I would be honoured to have a position in the company. I believe in it."

"Carrying on the family business?"

"Yes, exactly. The family business."

"Sounds awfully like nepotism to me."

Another acid look from Arthur. Apparently this accusation was lower than what he decided he could respond to with dignity, so Merlin had to continue the conversation himself.

"Do you _really_ believe in the company, though? I mean, it's gotten some pretty heavy criticisms for its environmental policies. And that ordeal with the Operators' Union…"

Arthur slammed his book shut. Behind it, his face was glowing hot with anger. Merlin immediately regretted saying anything at all. How stupid was he, really? If mindless blabber about Harry Potter books irritated Arthur enough to make him leave, criticising his father's company was probably not the way to go to ingratiate himself with him. But Merlin had just wanted something akin to a real _conversation_. Now, he braced himself for the consequences of that wish.

"You have quite some nerve. You _do_ know that the Pendragon company are the ones who gave you your grant to come here, they're the ones who are probably going to give you a research position in a few years, and without them, Merlin, neither of us would be living in this flat right now."

"Oh, so I owe them my complete allegiance and to keep them from all criticism, then?" asked Merlin. Now he was genuinely annoyed, too, never mind that he had brought the subject up. "Wow, that's brilliant. Tell me more about the small print in the contract, 'cause I must've not read it all."

He decided that this time, it was his turn to take the higher ground and leave the room. However, Arthur didn't plan on making it that easy.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"I'm going to my room," Merlin answered sourly, "If you'll _allow_ it." the last part he almost spat out. But he didn't leave quite yet - suddenly, vague thoughts he had had bubbled to the surface, and before he knew it, he continued, "And you know what, then I might as well just pack my things and go back to Gaius's place, because believe me, I know when I'm not wanted."

"What? No!" Arthur was on his feet now, too.

"Oh, why the Hell not? I know you think I'm an idiot, and you find me annoying, and ungrateful. As you've kindly pointed out, I'm here on your charity, and I feel like I spend all my time making up for that. For fuck's sake, you don't even like me, so why do you do it? Just to feel powerful, like some sort of saviour? Well, I bet you're regretting it now, and I won't be a burden on you anymore."

"Merlin! Merlin, I forbid you to take another step-"

"You _forbid_ me? Christ, you are such an entitled fucking _prat_-"

He had a string of continued insults and swears on his mind, but before he could say any of them, his breath was knocked out of him as something big and heavy slammed into his back and sent him crashing painfully to the floor. It was Arthur, who had apparently decided to make physical his attempts to stop Merlin from leaving the room.

"And _you_ are an _idiot_," he hissed. Merlin felt his breath and spittle on his ear, and cringed. He was very aware, now, of how much stronger Arthur was than him, and he felt a little scared - if this turned into a proper fight, he would have no chance. The fear did nothing to dampen his ire, though, and he desperately tried to wriggle his way free as Arthur kept talking.

"And you _are_ the most annoying, stubborn git I have ever known. You're ridiculous, a pathetic excuse for a human being."

At this point, Merlin's resistance reached a high point, and he actually managed to twist around to face his adversary. This way it was ensured that Arthur could see all the fury in his face as he countered,

"Then why the _Hell_ would you want me to stay around?"

Arthur's lips pressed against his for maybe two seconds. Two frozen seconds in which Merlin's entire mind whited out. He was completely blank, couldn't think, couldn't feel - all the anger and bitterness and tumultuous emotions seemed to melt and run out of him in an instant, leaving him suddenly empty.

When their faces separated, he collapsed and lay there breathing. Arthur seemed to relax, too.

One moment of silence between them, then he spoke.

"Just don't go," he mumbled.

"I won't," Merlin reassured him.

The act of thinking did not feel like a good idea to him right now. He rested his mind as they just lay there, on the floor, breathing. Arthur's arms no longer felt restrictive and threatening, but nice and safe and warm. They were so close he could feel Arthur's heart beat, joining his own and making an odd, syncopated rhythm. It felt like they stayed there for ages. Merlin began to feel drowsy. Eventually, he summoned his voice to speak.

"Um," he said, "Arthur."

The name felt odd on his lips now, as if its meaning had somehow changed.

"Mhm," Arthur replied, speaking directly into Merlin's shoulder.

"We can't fall asleep here."

This seemed to jumpstart Arthur's brain. He let go and rolled away, getting up with haste.

"No," he said, sounding almost confused, "No, we… Can't."

He had never seen Arthur so fidgety. As he got up, he could feel his eyes on him, and watched as he opened and closed his mouth several times, as if trying to say something, but not finding the words.

"I'm… I'm not… _Gay_ or anything," he said finally.

"No, no, of course you're not!" The response seemed to stumble out of Merlin's mouth immediately, all his defence mechanisms making sure the tone expressed that Arthur had done nothing particularly gay at all, that he would never believe him to be, and certainly never _want _for him to be.

At the back of his mind, he made note of the fact that he was doomed.

Arthur nodded once.

"Just don't… Leave."

"I won't."

"Right."

Arthur's mouth made a small movement. It wasn't quite a smile, but looked like one, a little bit, maybe. He nodded again, before returning to the chair he had been sitting in until this commotion occurred, picked up his book and shuffled off to his room, carefully avoiding looking Merlin in the eye.

Alone, he covered his face with his hands. He really _was_ an idiot, wasn't he. An exceptionally stupid one, at that. Completely incapable of reading his own emotions, let alone Arthur's. Something had clicked now, and he really wished it hadn't.

He really wished he hadn't spoken, that he was still lying on the floor with Arthur's arms around him. Never mind that the floor was hard and uncomfortable, never mind that Morgana would eventually come home and ask questions. Just one more second of being in that position, being in that moment. And to not yet have to think about it or feel anything about it. Or, as he was afraid that he would, dream about it.


	5. The Emotions

It took Arthur a few days to return to normal. A few days of avoiding Merlin as much as possible, and not to meet his eyes whenever they did run into each other. But after that… After just a few days, he seemed _normal_. He acted as if nothing at all had happened. Merlin tried to follow suit, although he found it difficult.

It was as if that… What to call it? Was it even a kiss? It was more of a desperate crashing of mouths in an attempt to communicate something ineffable. But what exactly Arthur had been trying to express, well, Merlin was at a loss to that. It was apparently _not_ what would have been his immediate interpretation - the obvious interpretation that he rather wished it would have been. Whatever the intention had been, it had opened a door inside Merlin, a door he couldn't shut. It wasn't really as if it had awakened feelings that weren't there before, he was just suddenly aware of them. Every time Arthur walked into the room, he was suddenly hyper aware, wanting nothing more than to disappear, but any time Arthur was not in the room, he pathetically wished that he was. His glum prophecy that he would be dreaming of Arthur's arms came true all too often - it felt at times as if it were impossible to get to sleep without imagining that moment, that peace between them lying there on the floor - all memory of the physical discomfort of the position had disappeared, the image was distilled and idealised in his mind. He came to hate it even more when Arthur walked around shirtless, because he didn't know where to look, or what to do with himself.

And he couldn't really talk about it to anyone. Arthur himself was obviously out of the question. Morgana and Merlin weren't exactly close, at least not close enough that he could take her aside and confess the woes of having a massive crush on her brother. And this was not the sort of problem he could bring to Gaius or his mother, either - he certainly didn't feel like receiving the advice of a responsible adult. The obvious choice was to talk to Gwen, and she would have been the first person he would go to if it had been anyone, _anyone_ but Arthur. But of course, Gwen herself had been known to have an interest in Arthur, and quite possibly a 'thing' of some kind brewing with him. She certainly had a better chance than Merlin ever would have.

Thankfully, he seemed to be able to hide his obsession rather well, at least well enough that nobody found it necessary to ask him about it. Not even Gwen, who knew him so well. They would meet near every day in class, and he'd tease and prod her about either Arthur or Lance, who she had admitted to meeting up with a couple of times.

"You 'met up'? That is the most specific tale I have ever heard!" he exclaimed joyously at one point. He enjoyed the way she seemed to try and bury herself in her shoulders, like a schoolgirl with a crush, when she was in fact a university girl with a crush.

"Well, more specifically, we went for coffee."

"Oh, Gwen, how could you! _I'm_ the one who buys you coffee!"

"Lancelot didn't buy me coffee, I paid for it myself."

"Wow. He really must be special!"

Gwen continued to refer to Lance as Lancelot, just as he used her full name Guinevere. Just a couple of pretty low key dates - or 'meet ups' - and they already had terms of affection, of a sort, established. Merlin supported their union emotionally, but was currently rather suspicious of his own motives, and wondered if it wouldn't be better for everyone, himself included, if Arthur and Gwen got together - as if seeing Arthur with someone else would break the spell somehow, make him give up and move on, something he seemed incapable of doing at the moment.

"Merlin, you're reading too much into things again."

"I think not! It seems meant to be."

"That's what you said about me and Arthur, remember? And we're not exactly together."

He mentally braced himself before his next line.

"You still could be, though."

She sighed.

"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know."

Then she smiled at him, and gave him a little shove.

"Why are you so obsessed with my love life, anyway? It's not like it's any of your business."

"Of course it is my business," he said with mock indignation, "What kind of a friend would I be not to keep track of your emotions? Besides, I don't have much of a life of my own, romantic or otherwise."

"Oh, don't say that," she said in a comforting tone, "You have things going on. You've got a job."

Yes, he did have a job. He couldn't make his mind up, really, on whether he loved or hated it. He hadn't really made friends with any of his co-workers, and frankly the teenagers with their incessant giggling made him feel quite paranoid. It was boring, mind-numbing work. Then again, his mind needed to be numbed. At least at work there was no Arthur around, ever. He didn't need to contemplate how he felt about cardboard boxes in the store room, or watch his step around shelves of spices, or will himself not to stare at lists numbering newly arrived goods. He could put himself into a trance, where he did the work on autopilot - it was that kind of job, for better and for worse.

Slowly, the rest of his life fell into a similar rhythm. Everything became routine, a way to keep himself from feeling too much, or thinking too much about anything that wasn't chemistry. Part of this routine was regular calls home to his mother, Hunith. Sometimes it felt like the only reason he ever did anything at all was so that he'd have something to tell her every time, so that she wouldn't worry about him.

Out of the blue one day, Hunith brought up the subject of Merlin's father.

He hadn't asked about his father in years. He never knew the man, just that he'd had to go away before Merlin was born, was not aware of his son's existence, and vaguely unaccountable for after that point. It was obvious to Merlin, even when he was little, that the question of his father's whereabouts upset Hunith, and he didn't like seeing his mother sad. As he grew older and more curious, this childhood maxim was one he upheld, leaving her to bring up the subject in her own time. Now, when he was for most intents and purposes an adult, it seemed that time had come.

"Merlin," she said during one of their conversations, "I thought you should know, I've decided to search for Balinor. Your father."

She hadn't needed to clarify that.

"Oh," he said with a little surprise. He could find no further words - he didn't quite know how to react.

"Well, how do you feel about that?" she asked when he had remained silent for a few seconds.

"Well, I don't know. Positive, I guess."

He sat down on his bed. Most of these phone conversations took place in his room, as that was where he spent the majority of his time.

"You never really told me much about him."

"Well, there wasn't much to tell. We were in love for a while, but he wasn't in the country legally. He was from Bosnia, see, and he didn't have any papers. All gone."

"Oh," Merlin said again. It was a bit of a surprise to suddenly learn, in his early twenties, that he was half Bosnian. He waited for his mother to go on.

"Well, we didn't know I was pregnant until - Until after he got deported." She paused. He heard the sound of her swallowing, and in his mind's eye, he could envision her composing herself before continuing. "This was before the war, officially, see, and they… Well, they didn't really figure he had much grounds to stay here. No job, no - no family. No proof of his identity, even."

Silence.

"I'm sorry, I know I should have - I should have told you this before, I -"

"No, mum, mum, it's alright," he fretted, hearing her voice starting to break up, "It's okay. Are you - are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm sorry, I'm - I'm fine. Anyway, I thought - The time had come when I'm ready to - to take up the search. I tried to find him some time after, but he seemed to go off the record again, and I didn't know what to do - you couldn't just google things in those days, you know."

"I know."

"So, you're okay with it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, absolutely - send me anything you find."

"I will. I love you, darling."

"Love you too, mum."


	6. The Game

Life rolled on, as it always does. For Merlin, not much happened - he would continue in his routine, he would occasionally get an update from Hunith on the search for what had happened to Balinor, he would stack the shelves at work as ever. Interacting with Arthur was getting easier, not because he was any less absolutely crazy for him, but because he had become used to suppressing and hiding those feelings. He still kept silent about it even to Gwen.

She made an unusual suggestion one day.

"There's an inter-uni rugby game on friday," she said, "We should go."

He elected to respond to this statement visually rather than verbally, turning his face fully towards her with his eyebrows hitting the roof.

She laughed at his surprise.

"I take it you were joking," he said, awaiting confirmation.

"No, actually," she answered, "I mean, My brother is playing, your flatmate is playing, Lancelot is into rugby, so he'd want to go, and - "

"Okay, so, I'm confused, you want to go because you want to watch Arthur showing off in his short shorts, or because you want to take Lance on a nice date? I didn't think you'd need a chaperone either way."

She rolled her eyes at him. He considered that a success.

"I just thought it would be a nice day out. With _friends_. But apparently, you're not game. That's fine."

"Oh no, no, I am… Game," He hurriedly insisted.

Actually, he was unsure whether he was dreading or looking forward to it, but he would go along, why ever not.

"If you promise I won't be third wheeling something awful. If you're just going to devote yourself to your date…"

She punched his arm friendlily, and the conversation descended into general laughter.

Actually, the game was good fun. Merlin was not a big fan of rugby, but Lance explained the rules for him as the game proceeded. He tried to pay attention to what was actually happening, and felt he was doing an all right job of it, even if he did have some trouble keeping his eyes off Arthur. He wished he could physically punch the part of his mind that recognised it, but he had to admit his flatmate did look rather good in shorts. The local team won, and of course, Lance and Gwen were adamant to go congratulate Gwen's brother Elyan. And Arthur. Merlin felt reluctant to come with them, and excused himself to the bathroom. But when he had hidden away for the extent of time he thought it possible to spend peeing, they still hadn't come back, and he found himself obliged to follow them.

Of course, this lead to nearly running straight into one of the other big, quite scary rugby players.

"Whoa! Hey there."

"Hi. Sorry," he said awkwardly.

"Nothing to apologise for!" the man held out a hand to Merlin, "Nice to meet you. I'm Gwaine"

"Merlin," Merlin answered, trying his best to make his handshake a firm one. Gwaine seemed friendly enough, but his previous experience with sporty people basically boiled down to "do not show weakness", and that was a strategy he intended to employ.

"So. _Merlin_. How did you find the game?"

"Uh, it was good. Yeah, er, well done." He scanned the space for Lance and Gwen - they must be somewhere nearby.

"Who're we looking for?" said Gwaine, and Merlin realised he too was searching the room, exaggerating the stretch of his neck as if impersonating a giraffe. Merlin laughed.

"I was just trying to see if I could spot my friends."

"Aw, so you want to get out of this conversation? Now you've hurt my feelings! Never mind your friends, I can assure you, I am _much_ more interesting."

With that he gently grabbed a hold of Merlin's arm. Merlin looked at him again. He didn't really seem so scary now, he was, in fact, rather charming. Still, the way he was now holding his elbow and looking at him - was this supposed to be… _Flirting?_

Merlin didn't know how he was supposed to respond. It was flattering, obviously, and Gwaine was rather good looking, but he wasn't into guys - well, that was not exactly true, was it.

His flustered stream of uhs and ers was broken off when Gwen and Lance rounded a corner on the other side of the room, together with Elyan and Arthur. The nature of Merlin's hopeless infatuation was such that the moment Arthur entered his field of vision, he forgot all about the conversation he was in. And he also forgot that since Gwaine was looking at him rather intently, he was likely to follow his gaze.

"Ah," said he, letting go of Merlin's arm, "I see."

Merlin looked at his feet, mentally berating himself for his obviousness.

"Curses! Foiled again!" Gwaine yelled out, seeming to revel in the chance to be overdramatic.

"Yeah, could you just, you know… Not," Merlin pleaded, feeling his face turn red.

"Oh! of course." Gwaine winked. "Your secret is safe with me."

Merlin tried his best to feel reassured, especially now that it became apparent that his four acquaintances had indeed heard Gwaine's loud voice, and were on their way over.

"Merlin!" Arthur called as he put him in a headlock, "You never cease to surprise me. I never thought you'd be coming to watch us play."

Merlin was caught between the pain of the attack and the pleasure of being stuck in Arthur's elbow, his face pressed against skin that was still slightly wet from the shower.

"Let him go," Gwen gently commanded, and Arthur heeded her words at once. Merlin nearly fell over trying to regain his balance, which had been thrown off course. He could spot the awkward tension quite easily - Arthur was evidently not best pleased to see Lance, and there seemed to be a general agreement not to explicitly state the fact that everyone had noticed. By the time they were leaving, the Gwaine shot Merlin a look of sympathy.

It was odd and unexpected that the only one who knew of his desperate affections for Arthur would be a stranger, even someone who knew Arthur and not him. Just another detail of this whole situation that was slightly more bizarre and unnecessary than he would have liked. That evening, he found himself with no option but to torture himself even further - if he hadn't fallen for Arthur, he would have had no second thought about teasing him with the whole Gwen and Lance situation, and so, to keep up the pretence that everything was normal, that was what he had to do.

"So what do you make of this Lancelot fellow, then?" was the opening line he decided to go for, as he sat with the Pendragon siblings, watching some mind-numbing reality show.

"Lance seems like a sound guy," Arthur replied, guarded.

"So you don't feel threatened at all by him?"

"Threatened? Why would I feel threatened?" his voice was far too calm to make anyone believe that he was genuinely oblivious.

"Well, he and Gwen seem to be getting along rather well."

"Yes, well, she's a grown woman. She can do whatever she wants to do."

"Or whomever?"

Arthur's face spontaneously reacted in a way to show he definitely didn't like that thought, but he kept silent.

"Come on, Arthur," Merlin reasoned, "It's fairly obvious that you like Gwen."

"I don't."

"You do. You can admit it here, it's just me and Morgana here, we won't judge."

"Never mind judging! Has it occurred to you that this is none of your _business_?"

"Fine, fine, be as defensive as you'd like. I just don't see _why_ you'd deny it."

"Because it's an all round bad idea. It'd be weird."

"Weird? How so?"

"Well, because she's - I don't know, she's - All clever and… Strange. Well, not strange as in - I've just never - She's not like anyone I've ever gone for."

Now they had gotten further than teasing. Arthur was staring intently at the television, but the screen was currently occupied by a talking sofa, and it seemed unlikely that he would be particularly fascinated by that - especially since the same sofa had appeared in every ad break the programme had had so far, and it had had more than its reasonable share.

"Arthur," said Merlin, his voice serious now, "Surely if you still care for her, in spite of her not being your type or whatever, then - then that is nothing but a good sign."

"What makes you think that I _care_ for her so much?" if the sofa had been able to see the surly glare that was now directed at it, it would probably run away screaming.

"Apart from your face giving you dead away right now, you mean? Well, you kissed her once."

"That was _NOT_-" Arthur slammed his fist into the table and turned towards Merlin as if he wanted to punch him in the face. He froze when he saw Merlin's terrified expression and looked to Morgana, who had not taken part in the conversation, but definitely reacted with great puzzlement to this sudden outburst. Arthur sank back into is seat.

"I've gone a lot further than kissing people before, without that _meaning_ anything at all."

That comment felt like a blow to the stomach, but Merlin's mind lingered on one preceding it, the unfinished sentence. It had sounded like it was supposed to continue with the words 'a kiss' - 'it was not a kiss'. Merlin had not been present on the particular occasion they were talking about, but he knew from talking to Gwen that it had pretty indisputably been a kiss. And there was no reason for Arthur to say that it wasn't. In fact the only thing that somewhat resembled a kiss, but wasn't really was - Was Arthur talking about Merlin? No, he couldn't allow himself to think that. That he could stir up doubts and feelings like that - it was Gwen they were talking about, and she wasn't a metaphor for anything.

"Besides," Arthur commented, "If she's with Lance now, then there's nothing more to discuss, because nothing is going to happen."


	7. The Call

"I think you'll be glad to hear, I've made a breakthrough!"

Merlin sat up in his bed, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Really?"

It had been weeks since Hunith had been able to bring any new information to the table about Balinor. She had found his birth records and confirmed that he belonged to a muslim family of whom they had not recovered any further trace, but he disappeared off the record before turning up in the UK. After he had left Ealdor and gone back, there was little information to come by.

"Yes. I've come into contact with this woman doing a study, and she says his name has come up in a file. She said she would have a look through it later today and send me the information."

"That's great! You'll forward it to me, yeah?"

"Of course."

He spent the rest of the day in an unusually good mood. Not even Arthur being his grumpy but annoyingly beautiful self could get him down.

Later that afternoon, he was sitting on a bench at the edge of the university campus, casually talking to Gwaine. Amazingly, the two had become quite good friends after that somewhat awkward introduction at the rugby game. As he might have predicted, Gwaine reacted to the good news with a cheer and a slap on Merlin's back that nearly knocked the air out of him.

"That's great, man! So excited for you."

"Thanks," he grinned, "It's so surreal. Just the thought that I might actually have a dad out there, you know? And if they find him, I might get to meet him. I wouldn't say it's my biggest dream since forever or anything, I mean , my mum was more than good enough on her own, but, you know, anyone who grows up without a father kind of wants to meet him."

"I know," said Gwaine, in a tone that hinted that his might be yet another broken home. Before Merlin got around to asking him about it, though, he nudged Merlin's side and said, "Shame, though. I thought when you arrived all beaming like that that you might have made some progress with your massive crush on Arthur."

Merlin's jaw dropped for a moment, and he hastily scanned the area, praying not to see anyone who knew him. He was in luck, but who knew about Arthur's friends - being rich, handsome and good at sports, it seemed there was no-one who _didn't_ know Arthur Pendragon.

"For christ's sake be discreet," Merlin pleaded.

"All right, all right." His alarm seemed to amuse Gwaine. "Still no change, then?"

"If anything, it's taken a turn for the worse. I think he suspects," Merlin confided.

"How so?"

"Well, he seems to be angry with me all the freaking time. I mean, he's always said I was annoying, but it's getting a bit ridiculous. And he used to put me in a headlock or slap my back and stuff all the time, now he shies away from anything that could resemble physical contact. Why would he do that if he doesn't suspect that I fancy him?"

Gwaine laughed.

"So you're worried because he's _not _ physically abusing you?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, yes. Well, it could mean he suspects you fancying him, it could also mean that _he_ famcies _you._"

Now it was Merlin's turn to erupt in laughter.

"Hah! Yeah, that's not it. He's made it pretty clear that he doesn't swing that way."

"Maybe." Gwaine leaned back, flipping his head so that his fringe fell aside. This gesture was far from random; Merlin could see his friend's eyes survey a couple of pretty fit looking girls who were walking past, giggling.

"But you have to remember, he's been raised by Uther Pendragon. That guy is pretty conservative, to put it mildly. So if Arthur _were_ gay, or had, well, leanings toward something or other, then I don't think he'd have an easy time coming to terms with that."

Merlin frowned.

"Really? I dunno, he seems pretty open-minded to me. I mean, he's never given _you_ any grief, has he?"

"No, but there's a difference, isn't there. I think as long as he can convince himself _he's_ straight, then he's got no problem with me wanting to shag anything that moves."

That comment made Merlin chuckle.

"Now I'm a little less flattered by the fact that you came on to me," he joked.

"Oh, by all means, don't be - I'd do you at least twice."

"…Right. This conversation is officially a little bit weird now."

"Aye, sorry. Change of topic?"

"Yes, please."

Somehow the change in topic lead the conversation out on a strange road, where Gwaine somehow ended up persuading Merlin to come with him and the rugby lads to this obscure pub at the other end of town where he had heard a rumour the pints were cheap and exquisite. This plan did not work out exactly as planned, though. After everyone had given up and gone in different directions, Merlin was stuck at a desolate bus stop with Arthur, his shoes soggy and his mood dampened.

"Why the hell did _you_ come along for this, anyway?" Arthur asked, displeased.

_Believe me, had I known you were going…_

"Gwaine made it sound like a brilliant idea."

"Yeah, well, if you knew Gwaine as well as I do, you'd know never to listen to a word that man says. About anything. Ever."

Merlin was inclined to agree - Gwaine was, after all, the one who claimed this sour faced, grumpy oaf might have a crush on him, something which had never seen more unlikely. However, agreeing with Arthur about anything was not something he wanted to do at the moment, being cold and tired and generally as annoyed with his flatmate as his flatmate was with him. He drew his breath to utter some form of sarcastic comeback, but was interrupted as his phone went off.

"What?" Arthur exclaimed in outrage, "How do _you_ have reception out here? _I _don't have a single bar on my phone!"

Merlin ignored Arthur's moaning, because the name displayed on his phone was 'Mum'. Hunith had news. She most have spoken to her contact, gotten news. His heart perked up and his mood was immediately elevated. He accepted the call and pressed the phone to his ear, stepping a few feet away from the bus stop for privacy.

"Mum?"

"Hi, Merlin."

She sounded calm.

"Do you have news?"

"I - "

There was a pause. The notion that news did not equal good news suddenly occurred to Merlin.

"What is it?" he asked, bracing himself.

"Balinor is dead."

His heart sank. It was as if he was a balloon and someone had just stuck a pin into him, right into his gut. He wondered how he stayed on his feet. He wondered how he was even able to speak, but speak he did.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, I - Well, I'm sad, of course. I'm shaken, but - but honey, are _you_ okay?"

"Yes. No. I don't - Do you need me to come home?"

"No. No, I can manage. I mean, unless you feel you need to?"

"I think I'll be fine," Merlin said. His mouth was moving automatically now, and there was no emotion in his voice. "There's only a few weeks left of term, anyway - I'll be home then."

"Yes. I'm looking forward to it. Merlin, honey - you're sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I mean, I didn't know him, did I. I - I'll hold up until then."

"If you say so." Hunith did not sound entirely convinced.

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"How - how did it happen? Do we know?"

There was a silence. Merlin could imagine his mother carefully deciding what to say next.

"I can send you the email I got if you'd like," he said, "But it's quite heavy. I'm not sure it'd be good for you."

"That's nonsense, mum. Send it."

"Really, I - "

"Mum, I want to know."

The last statement came out harsher than he had intended. From the bus stop, Arthur's head turned to see why Merlin had shouted.

"As you wish."

"Merlin!" Arthur called. The bus had arrived, and the driver looked very irritated to have to wait.

"I've gotta go, mum."

"Alright, love. But honey, if you need to talk - "

"I know, mum. I love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

"Bye."

He spent the bus ride home looking out of the window. He could see in his peripheral vision that Arthur had his eyes on him, but didn't say anything. If he said something, he was afraid he would break down. All he wanted was just to be home, in his room, safe and alone, where he could cry as much as he needed to.

"Merlin, are you okay?"

Desperately he shook his head and waved a hand, signalling that the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. Arthur seemed to accept that, leaning back in his seat and saying nothing for the rest of the trip, but watching him with apprehension.

It made it worse, Merlin theorised, to have Arthur there. Because it wasn't true that he didn't want to talk about it, he wanted and needed to talk about it, to be comforted by someone he was close to. And he so wanted to be close to _Arthur_, for him to be that person, but he wasn't, and couldn't be. He didn't know where he had Arthur, and right now, baring his feelings to him about anything, however unrelated to whatever was or wasn't going on between them, seemed a feat he could not perform.

He felt like such a fool. To have let himself hope like that, that he would have a father - how could he have believed that that would happen? With his damned luck, it was never meant to be that easy, that normal. Hardly anyone he knew had two parents present in their lives, so why should he get that privilege? And why did it hurt so much to hear of the death of a man he had never met, when he didn't know how, or when, or why… He was an idiot, a bloody great fool, to let himself crash into a mess like that.

He held it together, and made it almost to the sanctuary of his room where he could bury his face in his pillow. He would have gotten there, but Arthur didn't let him.

"Merlin," he said. His voice sounded almost stern now, demanding to know what was upsetting him. Merlin wanted to tell him to fuck off. He didn't answer, but he made the mistake of stopping when his name was spoken. Then he felt Arthur's hand on his arm, and he couldn't take it anymore. Before he knew it, he was sobbing into Arthur's shoulder, pressed close to him, Arthur's hand gently stroking his back, arthur's voice in his ear whispering, "Shh."

And he loved him in that moment, and he hated him, because it hurt to need him that much. But right then, the loss hurt more, even if he'd only lost something he had never had.


	8. The Grief

He waited a day before reading the email. He needed to get his head somewhat together for that. Apparently, Balinor had been killed a couple of years after returning to his hometown. Executed, most probably with a gunshot to the head. Merlin reasoned that that was probably a quick death, with relatively little pain, and that was something to be grateful for. That was what he told himself, but he awoke more than once from a nightmare where some unknown entity behind his back held a gun to his head. He never screamed, never made a sound, never sat bolt upright in his bed like nightmare sufferers do in the movies, but the images in his mind were vivid, and he had to work hard to expel them.

It was difficult, but after about a week had passed, he was back on his feet. Going to work seemed impossible, so he handed in his resignation - something he had been planning to do for a good while anyway; the tedium was getting increasingly unbearable. All in all, he was glad to know what exactly had happened - it wasn't nice to know that his father was dead, and he would definitely have liked to skip the nightmares, but at least he knew. In some ways that was better than wondering. And it made him realise one thing - he actually had friends. Arthur seemed to set aside his anger and announced that he was there for him, Morgana insisted on making him tea everyday and asking whether he was all right, and Gwen was always available with a hug and a smile and some kind words of comfort. Gwaine and Lance, who hadn't known for as long, offered their respect and condolences.

"At least," Gwaine said, "You know he didn't want to leave you, you know? It'd be worse to find him and him wanting nothing to do with you."

Merlin wasn't entirely sure that was true, but Gwaine seemed to be speaking from his own experience, so he kept silent and appreciated the thought.

He was walking with Gwen on a typical, dreary monday about a week after the call, when she took his hand in both of hers and held it as if she would be able to gage his level of okay-ness from its weight.

"How are you?" she asked him when this failed to reveal anything, "I mean, really?"

He had to smile at her concern.

"I'm fine," he insisted, "As fine as can be expected. Seriously."

"I'm glad. Don't be afraid to tell me if you're not, though - you can tell me anything, you know that. I know what it's like to lose someone."

He squeezed her hand.

"I know you do. I appreciate it a lot, Gwen. I really am okay, though. If anything, I'm mostly worried about mum."

"How is she coping?"

"She sounds like she's holding up, and she's got friends to help her, too. But I'm looking forward to going home and be with her for a while - dealing with it together. There's only so much you can do over the phone."

"I see what you mean. Only two more weeks to go!"

"Yeah."

Gwen leaned her head on his shoulder as a gesture of solidarity. In thanks, he leaned his head on top of hers again.

"You're a good friend," he mumbled. Then he sighed.

"I don't want to talk about me and my family any more. Can we go back to teasing you about your love life yet?"

"Sure," she answered, "Go right ahead."

"Now that you've broken Arthur's heart, I suppose Lance is your boyfriend?"

"Well, we haven't necessarily worded it like that, yet, but I suppose…" She looked at him. "I didn't really break Arthur's heart, did I?"

Her tone was joking, but he could tell she was a slight bit worried. Gwen had the sweetest of natures and would never want to hurt anyone, least of all someone she cared about.

Merlin shrugged.

"I don't think so. He hasn't seemed particularly broken hearted. But then again, who could say? I'm not sure I'm in the know. He can be difficult to read; I suppose you know that better than anyone."

"Yeah."

Merlin and Morgana had the flat to themselves that evening - for once, she was not going out, and so they sat around watching a marathon of Marilyn Monroe movies broadcast on a random cable channel. Arthur was off at some dubious club with the rugby lads, celebrating the addition of a new player for the next semester - some guy who, according to Gwaine, looked exactly like a stripper in a gay nightclub. Merlin said he'd take his word for that.

Morgana decided to call it a night after _The Misfits_.

"You can't be serious!"

"Well, it was _her_ last film, so why shouldn't it be _my_ last for the night?"

"Because _Some Like It Hot_ hasn't been on yet, and that is by far the funniest one."

She yawned.

"Be that as it may, I'm knackered. You have fun with Marilyn."

"Oh, I shall."

It wasn't a lie at all, _Some Like It Hot_ was one of his favourite movies. But backing up the argument for staying awake for it was the fact that a trailer for some explosion heavy action flick had aired in one of the breaks, and the thought of guns lingered in Merlin's mind. He really didn't want another nightmare, so he figured he'd stay alert until the idea had been thoroughly expelled from his mind, replaced with funny images of mediocre drag queens and gorgeous ukulele goddesses.

Right at the beginning of the movie, a sound from reality distracted him, namely the sound of a key turning in the lock followed by the door creaking open. He turned to see Arthur stumble in, very unstable and worse for ware.

"You're back already? That must have been some efficient partying, it's barely past half one."

Arthur ignored this comment, leaving the door to slam shut behind him. Swaying a little, he made his way to the sofa, grabbing its back to straighten himself.

"What're you watching?" he asked. Merlin grinned at his adorably slurred voice.

"_Some Like It Hot_," he informed.

"Everybody likes it hot," Arthur proclaimed, indignantly. He made a daring attempt to climb over the back of the sofa to sit on it, and managed to succeed, although he did very nearly land on top of Merlin.

"That's why _I'm_ so popular," he boasted.

Merlin laughed audibly.

"You are very rude!" Arthur reprimanded, shoving him.

"Pipe down, your poor dear sister is asleep next door."

Arthur nodded with understanding and put a finger to his lips conspiratorially.

"I shall be as quiet as the aaaair," he whispered loudly, the sound piercing the room harshly.

Merlin giggled and shook his head.

"Just shut up and watch the film, dollophead."

"Al_right_, since you beg so _insistently_, I will watch it with you. God knows I have better things to do."

He then remained quiet for a while, but Merlin could feel the weight of him on his side getting heavier, and soon enough, he was leaning on his shoulder, fast asleep.

Though having breath stinking of alcohol regularly blown onto his neck wasn't his favourite thing, Merlin couldn't deny that he appreciated the closeness. Especially since Arthur in his sleep hugged Merlin's arm close, and let their fingers intertwine. But when Arthur started snoring loudly, disrupting the dialogue between Sugar and Joe, he nudged him gently in the side, making sure his arm was relaxed so he would be blameless for the hand holding, should the topic come up.

It didn't, though - Arthur just sleepily announced, "This is stupid."

"How would you possibly know? You've been asleep for most the film."

"Exactly. It's boring."

"Are you insulting my taste in movies."

"No. Wait, _yes_. You're like… No. You're not like anyone. _Anyone_…"

Merlin wondered if Arthur could feel his breath hitching, close as they were, when he said the exact words he had used to describe Gwen. Bar the important part, obviously. Arthur leaned on his shoulder again and looked up at him. Merlin stared right back. Arthur looked drunk and contemplative. Then, suddenly, he grinned.

"What?" Merlin asked.

"I like your face. It's funny."

"Oh, wow. _Thanks_."

Arthur slid down until he was lying on the sofa, his head somewhere next to Merlin's knee, miraculously avoiding a fall to the floor. All the while, he giggled like an idiot. Merlin rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Go to bed, you clot."

"You're not the boss of me," Arthur sulkily insisted, but with an effort, he followed the advice.

Merlin shook his head again watching him go, and then turned his attention back tot he TV, where the last scene of the movie played out.

'_I'm a man!_'

'_Well, nobody's perfect!_'

He wondered idly whether he was more relieved or disappointed that Arthur wasn't around to catch those lines.


	9. The Dance

By the way Gwen was staring off into the sky, Merlin could tell she was choosing words.

"…So?" he asked eventually.

"Hm?" she countered innocently.

"Come on, that is definitely your thinking face. There's something you want to ask, or something you want to tell me. Or you might be trying to solve a cubic equation in your head, but after a two hour lecture on fucking _coherent radiation_, I assume your academic mind is as fried as mine."

This brought a laugh from her, finally.

"Ah, yes, it is. No, I just figure I need your help, in a way. Not a big thing, or, I don't know. What with you going through stuff, and, so, you know, I'm not going to mind if you say no, but - "

"Gwen. Gwen, you're rambling. I still have no idea what you need. Maybe ask first and then I can decide whether it's a problem or not?"

"Right. Sorry. Well. So, you know Lancelot and I are sort of… A _thing_ now."

"Yes, I have made sure to pester you sufficiently for you to confirm that."

"Yes, you really have. Well, the end of term club night is this week, the whole Christmas Party thing." She needn't have informed him of _that_, there were posters plastered all over campus. "And I _really_ wanna take him, but he doesn't know anyone who'll be going, and I just think it would be really helpful - "

"…If I'd chaperone for you again. Of course I will."

"Really? 'Cause I know you don't like clubbing very much, and I don't know, your… Trauma is still quite fresh."

"Well, Arthur and Morgana are both going, so it's either that or sitting at home, wallowing in my own misery, which certainly cannot be good. Besides, it sounds like a good time, hanging out with you guys, making the whole Lance Versus Camelot Uni Students less awkward, et cetera."

"Thanks," she smiled, and hugged him. "You know, you're a really good friend, too."

He was glad all a man had to do to look the part on a formal night like this was wear a suit and a fashionable tie - not that he knew what kind of ties were in fashion, but Arthur didn't mind illuminating him on the matter, and on top of that, lending him one.

"This one should go well with your eyes," was the comment that sent Merlin laughing.

"What?"

"That was just uncharacteristically effeminate of you."

"Yeah, well, which one of us sits up half the night watching Marilyn Monroe movies?" Arthur drily countered, adjusting the tie. Merlin felt a jolt go through him. How much exactly did Arthur remember of that night? Not that there was much to remember, but he had thought he was too drunk to pick up on what movie Merlin was watching. Did that mean he remembered the hand holding, too?

_I like your face_, said the echo of Arthur's voice inside Merlin's head.

Morgana looked absolutely stunning, of course. Her dress was shiny and flowing, and she had done her hair up in a very attractive bun.

"You look gorgeous!" Merlin exclaimed, impressed.

"Thank you," she said with a smile.

"Your date is going to be very happy with himself," Arthur commented.

"I have no date," she simply stated.

"What?"

"Tonight, I am free as a bird," Morgana explained as she took the lead out through the front door.

"And by that," Arthur said to Merlin, "She means she's going to wake up on the other side of town with some stranger and a handbag full of nothing but regrets."

"I _can_ hear you."

"I know."

They arrived at the club to see a familiar figure waiting outside.

"Lance!" chirped Morgana cheerfully and greeted him with a hug. "Are you waiting for Gwen?"

"Hello, Morgana," he smiled, "Yes, I am. She's got our tickets," he explained. He nodded at Arthur in greeting, and the nod was returned curtly and coldly. Apparently Arthur still wasn't quite over the fact that Lance had won Gwen's affections from him.

"You alright, Merlin?"

"I'm good, and yourself?"

"I'm fine," said Lance, though he looked a little bit nervous, and slightly cold, wearing no outer jacket in the chilly December wind. "You guys should get inside," he said in reference to the weather.

Arthur was not to be asked twice, and made his way past quickly. Morgana gave him an apologetic shrug before she followed.

"I'll keep you company," Merlin said.

"You don't have to - "

"Nonsense. So, how've you been?"

"I've been getting along. I'm planning to apply for some studies next year, so I've been busy doing all the dreadful searching through universities and all."

"Ah, I don't envy you that!" Merlin said with heartfelt sympathy, "Are you planning to apply for CU?"

"Yes, I suppose so. It's going to be good to get back on the educational ladder, so to speak, after working for two years."

"And if you choose to study with us, that would of course mean many chances to hang around Gwen." Merlin winked at Lance, who laughed bashfully.

"Well, that would be a bonus, for sure."

"So not only are you meeting all your girlfriend's classmates, these are also your potential fellow students of the future!" He judged that thought for a second. "Although, maybe you shouldn't take their behaviour here as representative of anything at all."

"Well, you're promoting your university very well."

Their conversation was interrupted there by Gwen calling out to them as she arrived, trying to run in her high heels.

"Lancelot! I am so sorry, my train was - oh, hello, Merlin!" She smiled at them, panting. Lancelot offered her an arm for support, which she thankfully accepted. Judging from her outfit, she had been hoping to make a slightly more graceful entrance, so as to impress. Judging from the way Lance was looking at her, that was far from necessary. He was evidently smitten. He raised his hand to her face and gently placed an escaped lock of hair back behind her ear.

"Hi," he said, and she answered in kind, "Hi."

Merlin thought this was an excellent opportunity to ruin a sweet, romantic moment, and as a friend, he could not let it pass.

"Right, so I am freezing my tits off. Shall we go in?"

Gwen gave him a look of damnation which he replied to with a wink.

It turned out that really, she needn't have worried about Lance not knowing anyone - once they were indoors it quickly became clear that the pair had eyes for none but each other, anyway.

Merlin watched them with mild amusement from the bar, where he was pleased with himself to have managed to occupy one of the very few seats available. The ticket came with two complimentary drinks, and the bartender's generous mixing coupled with Merlin's frail constitution ensured that upon finishing them both he was, if not actually drunk, certainly in a better and sillier mood than usual.

Gwen and Lance were dancing cheek to cheek. By the wall, Merlin spotted Arthur, who was standing by himself, leaning on the wall. It was a bit unusual for him to stand alone, popular as he was. He wasn't really intending to, but Merlin found himself walking over to him. He seemed to be looking at Lance and Gwen with some resentment.

"Arthur," Merlin said, and the thought occurred to him, as Arthur turned to face him, that if he had been completely sober, he would probably have regarded this as a stupid idea, and never gone through with it.

But he wasn't entirely sober, so he asked,

"Would you like to dance?"

For a second, Arthur's face looked like he had fallen off the moon.

Then he grinned.

"Yes!"

He hadn't thought this through at all, and he didn't know what to do now that Arthur had accepted - well, he'd have to _dance_, but that wasn't exactly one of his best skills. Luckily, Arthur had slightly more confidence, and put one hand on Merlin's shoulder, the other arm around his waist. Merlin followed suit, mirroring him. It felt surreal as they swayed around to the music, absolutely ridiculous, but somehow absolutely perfect. Merlin couldn't hold back laughter, and found himself burying a smiling face in Arthur's shoulder. He could feel Arthur's body against him, close now, and he was laughing, too. He couldn't hear it, because the music was stupidly loud, but he could feel his chest moving with the giggles. They didn't stay dancing for very long, but afterwards they stuck together, talking absolute nonsense. They had more drinks, and Merlin felt increasingly detached from reality. He thought briefly that it's kind of pointless to go to a club party if you're going to spend the entire time talking to your _flatmate_, but Arthur's hand was still on his hip, and they were still laughing, and he decided he didn't give a fuck about pointlessness.

He was pretty wobbly by the time they got home, having to lean on Arthur to keep steady. It was odd how his legs appeared to have their own opinions on where they needed to be, which didn't always correspond with his own plans, nor with the reality of the situation. He was fortunate to have someone to support him all the way to his room. Once there, Arthur hugged him - a _real_ hug - and whispered a soft "Good night" into his ear.

Then he kissed his forehead and retired to his own room.

In reality what Merlin did next was to stagger unsteadily to his bed and then falling fast asleep there, still wearing his clothes, but to him it felt like he had jumped out of an airplane and fallen several hundred feet before landing softly on the biggest, most heavenly cloud in heaven.


	10. The Question

He woke up the following morning with a completely expected headache, and a smile. He got up slowly, giving his head time to adjust to each new level of verticality. Finally, he was standing on the floor. He had gotten up at some point during the night, slightly more sober, and changed out of his suit. Arthur's tie - the one that looked good with Merlin's eyes - was laid neatly upon his bedside table. He ran a finger over the fabric. Arthur himself had probably already left the building - his method of getting rid of a hangover involved moving his body and getting fresh air, two things that Merlin at this moment found almost unthinkable. Besides, what with Camelot being a city and all, there was a limit to how fresh the air would be.

He picked up his phone and called Gwen. However, she was largely unintelligible. If she had lost something last night, it was her voice. He vowed that he would be right over, and they'd get over their hangovers together.

In the door to the flat, he met Morgana.

"Are you just coming home _now_?" he asked with disbelief.

Swaying slightly and still in her beautiful dress which had somehow remained unscathed, she answered slowly, "Yes."

"Impressive. Where have you _been_ all night?"

"Oh, where _haven't_ I been!" she exclaimed gleefully.

Merlin was relieved that whatever she had been doing it seemed to have been the fun kind of staying up all night, rather than the awful kind, though he was glad he was not going to be her waking up later in the day - he felt horrid enough himself, and he hadn't come home still drunk at midday.

"I think I've started a revolution," Morgana contently informed him as she waltzed on into the flat.

"That's brilliant," said Merlin, although he didn't really know what she could mean, "I'll see you later."

"Laters," she replied, dragging out the letter s for far longer than necessary.

He went to Gwen's at foot - she lived in student accommodation right next to campus, sharing a kitchen and a bathroom with four strangers. It was shabby, but the atmosphere was pleasant, even though everyone did see fit to lock their doors if they were out of their room for more than five minutes. The kitchen was empty of other people, so they elected to occupy it. Gwen had well and truly lost her voice and was really doing quite poorly, not solely on account of a hangover, like Merlin, but also because she and Lancelot had gotten stuck outside in the rain for an absurd amount of time, and she had caught a powerful cold. Merlin insisted she stayed on a chair, snugly wrapped up in her duvet, while he fried some bacon for the two of them. It was only fair, he reasoned, that he should do the cooking, as it was her food.

In a hoarse whisper, she told him about her night, and how lovely it was in spite of the trouble getting home.

"I am sorry we left you behind! I was, well, distracted - "

Here, she paused to give him a reprimanding look as he snickered. when he was silenced, she continued.

"And then I lost sight of you altogether. It was sort of stupid of me to ask you to come and then not…"

"Believe me, Gwen, it was all alright. I had a good time anyway."

"Really?"

"Really."

Unlike Merlin himself, Gwen was not one to push for details, and he didn't expand on his evening, not because it was anything he wanted to keep secret, but because it was a nice thought that it was his, and his alone. For now, his evening with Arthur was something private and sweet that he could keep inside his mind and keep living in.

He didn't see Arthur at all that day, he was out doing things, presumably - Merlin knew he had rugby practice on Sunday afternoons, this one probably being the last one before Christmas. He didn't really mind. The worrying part of his brain, which was, sadly, quite a substantial component, was beginning to fret about the what ifs, and overanalysing the previous night in every possible negative way, ranging from a practical joke to a drunken mistake, to quite simply a dream.

That last theory was pretty much debunked in class the next day. Gwen had taken his advice and stayed home with a hot drink, so he found himself sitting next to someone else. It was a particular someone that he was not entirely fond of; a girl called Jodie of whom the only thing he knew was that she had spent the first few weeks insisting to everyone that Gwen had only gotten the Pendragon grant on account of her friendship with Morgana. This was a hilarious, but somewhat poisonous fallacy quite clearly rooted in jealously, and it didn't put Jodie in a favourable light from Merlin's point of view. He was somewhat apprehensive, then, when she turned to talk to him.

"So, you danced with Arthur Pendragon at the party, right?"

"Er, yes, I did," he said, rather perplexed. He refrained from pointing out that she sounded like a fourteen year old girl, because that could be down to his predetermined dislike of her.

"So, are you like, his boyfriend, or..?"

_Or what?_

"I'm sorry, but I don't think that's any of your business."

His tone was polite, and he smiled apologetically, but it still felt like an odd thing to say. He was confused by her interest in the subject, and if he were completely honest, he didn't really know what to answer, and so he could think of nothing else than that, on the spot.

Though he was asked variations upon the same question several times throughout the day, he never came up with a better answer.

When he come home, Arthur was in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich. He was a horrible cook - for most of his meals, he leeched off Morgana or Merlin, or he got takeout. But sandwiches was the one thing he could make to an edible degree, he had dedicated himself to perfecting that skill. Merlin stopped in the doorway, and watched Arthur as he moved around.

"Hi," he said, his heart speeding up slightly.

Arthur looked over his shoulder.

"Hey," he replied. He sounded cheerful, and there was nothing in his voice that indicated regret for Saturday evening.

Merlin leant against the doorframe.

"How was your day?" he asked Arthur's back.

"Very good, thanks. And yours?"

"It's been interesting," Merlin admitted, "I've received about a thousand percent more attention than usual, which I think might be your fault."

Arthur laughed.

"Well, you're a massive nerdy idiot who seems to have gotten off with someone _way_ out of your league, so you can't blame them for being surprised. They probably want to know your secret."

"Rude," Merlin chided, but he was grinning. Arthur was nothing if not himself. "Mostly they wanted to know whether I was your boyfriend or not."

Now came the great unknown. The free fall, out of the airplane, into… Wherever.

"Hm."

Arthur didn't say any more than that, and he still had his back turned. That was not as illuminating as Merlin had hoped.

"I wasn't sure what to answer," he added, a plea shallowly submerged in the words for Arthur to please, please tell him where they stood, because he was still falling and desperately reaching out.

There was a silence.

"Well," said Arthur eventually, "Do you _want_ to be?"

Merlin was sure the beating of his heart could be heard on the other side of Camelot. Slightly out of breath, he answered,

"Yeah."

There was an excruciating pause before Arthur reacted.

"Good," he finally said, calmly and curtly, "Because I'd love to be yours."

Merlin could almost physically feel the cloud swallowing him up, wrapping him in warm, safe cotton. His heart was still attempting to escape his chest, and he felt lightheaded, but it was in no way a bad thing. He leaned his head on the doorframe and wondered whether he would ever be able to stop smiling. He continued to watch Arthur assemble his sandwich. The way his arms moved, the shape of his back, the muscles in his neck, the way his head tilted and the way his hair fell…

"Are you going to stare at my arse all day, or are you going to hand me those tomatoes?"

He motioned towards the bench on the other side of the kitchen. Merlin picked up the basket of cherry tomatoes that was placed there and walked over to Arthur with them.

"I wasn't staring at our arse."

Not that it wasn't worth a stare, but his eyes hadn't gotten that far yet.

"Oh, sure you weren't."

He took Merlin's hand for a moment, and ran his thumb along its side, from the wrist to the tip of the little finger. Then he let go and took the tomatoes.

"Thank you."

He arranged them on the two quite delicious looking sandwiches he had been preparing.

"You made two," Merlin observed.

"Yes, one for you, too," he said, shoving one of the plates into Merlin's hands with a smile, "So now you are obliged to cook dinner for me tonight."

"Thanks. You know, I'd have done that anyway. I mean, when don't I?"

"That's not a very strategic thing to say, Merlin. Now I have no incentive to make you sandwiches anymore, and so you will have to always make your own."

"I don't think boyfriends need incentive to make sandwiches for boyfriends."

Arthur looked at him for a long time, almost long enough that Merlin felt uncomfortable under his gaze. It was impossible to say exactly what he was thinking.

"I suppose not," he said eventually, and then he added, as if tasting how the word felt in his mouth, "Boyfriend."

The rest of the afternoon went by as it would on a regular day. They went about their regular habits as usual, but, to Merlin, at least, the whole atmosphere was different. It was as if things had subtly changed colour, or someone had switched the lighting around. He operated in the world as usual, but it was a different place. He reviewed his notes, worked on some problems, wrote a paragraph or two for an upcoming project, then he made dinner which both Arthur and Morgana ended up partaking in. She was still a little bit reduced after Saturday's extended shenanigans. She did vaguely remember meeting Merlin on her way home, but what revolution it was she had been a part of was anyone's guess. They ended the evening settled lazily in front of the television again. Arthur was the first to announce his intentions to retire, also the norm, as he had his earliest start on Tuesdays. He was about to get up when Merlin summoned what courage he had - if he was Arthur's boyfriend now, then he was damned if he wasn't going to get to kiss him before the day was over.

He laid his hand on Arthur's neck, and pressed his lips onto his. He felt Arthur shudder, then he reacted, opened his mouth and kissed him back.

The main thing it had in common with that sort-of-kiss that had unleashed all this was that it seemed to impede Merlin's ability to think. He could only feel, feel Arthur's lips on his, the tingle of stubble scraping against his mouth, strange, but far from unpleasant. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was a _real_ kiss. He leaned his forehead against Arthur's and said, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He couldn't remember ever hearing so much warmth in Arthur's voice before.

Morgana watched them with a raised eyebrow. Once Arthur had left, she slowly said, "I feel like I should definitely have seen that one coming."

Merlin shrugged.

He was still confused about Arthur and what exactly he thought and felt and wanted. They needed to talk, of course. But for now, the thing that he felt could keep him going through just about whatever, had already been said.

_I'd love to be yours._


	11. The Holidays

Gwen was recovering, and back on campus to catch the last lectures before the holidays, even though they were decidedly more relaxed than usual. Today, it was Merlin's turn to have to stop and choose the right words in the middle of their conversation. This was in the morning, as they were both in the habit of being obnoxiously early, and he figured it was best to mention the change in his and Arthur's relationship before it came to her through some dubious other channel.

"Right. So there's something I haven't told you."

She looked slightly confused.

"Should I be worried?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's not a _big_ thing. What am I saying? It's a massive thing. A massive thing that just happens not to have come up in conversation."

"Well, what is it?"

"You know how you have a boyfriend now?"

"Yes?"

"Well," and here he could no longer hold back his grin, "So do I."

"_What_?"

"I know."

"Why didn't you _tell _me? I didn't even know you liked someone!"

"Like I said, it didn't come up."

"Well, that's - What - Who?"

"Ah." That was the part he was unsure about how to approach.

"This is either going to be glaringly, pathetically obvious, or it's going to sound absolutely batshit random and surprising."

"Well, it's clearly not _obvious_," she pointed out, but then a thought seemed to strike her, "Is it Gwaine?"

"What? No!" said Merlin, "It's _Arthur_."

"_Arhur_?" Now it was Gwen's turn to look perplexed. She stood for a moment just looking at him. Her mouth twitched several times as if she were about to speak, but she was evidently still trying to wrap her head around what he had just said.

"Yeah," she said eventually, "That is.. Surprising. I… I didn't think he was gay," she finally said.

"Well, neither did I. And obviously not exclusively, I think he - Wait, did you think _I _was gay?"

"No… I don't know, I never really thought about it."

"But you're less surprised about me than about Arthur."

"Well, yes, because Arthur - I mean, he…" she paused for a moment. "Actually, maybe that explains a few things. About why he gave me such mixed signals and everything."

"Maybe." Merlin sighed. "There was a time when I thought I knew how to read Arthur. Now I know pretty much for certain that I've no idea what's going on inside his head most of the time. But maybe I'm not supposed to."

"And the reason why you didn't tell me, of course, was because he and I had… Not exactly history, but I used to think we had potential."

"I think you did, to be honest. You should have seen the - !"

At this point he was interrupted as somebody had snuck up behind him and lifted him up in the air, shaking him.

"Congratulations!" Gwaine's voice boomed.

"Eh! Thanks," Merlin said, slightly embarrassed, "Would you mind putting me down?"

His plea was heeded, and as he put him down, Gwaine added, "_Finally_!"

"Yeah, so, to him it _was_ obvious," Merlin concluded to Gwen, who was stood there laughing.

"Evidently," she agreed.

"Obvious?" Gwaine seemed shocked. "Of course it was obvious! You mean to say that you never caught on to Merlin's desperate obsession with Arthur?"

"_Desperate obsession,_" Merlin scoffed. That sounded so pathetic. Perhaps it was, in a way, but he had not let on that badly. "Whether or not I had an obsession with Arthur, I now have _an Arthur_, so I think that's pretty good going."

He had asked Arthur again about Gwen, now that he had this new and very welcome perspective on the situation. For once, Arthur didn't get annoyed or deliberately vague. Perhaps that was because he was lying relaxed on the sofa, leaning comfortably against Merlin, who was playing with his hair.

"I did like her quite a lot.," he explained, "And perhaps even more so because I liked you… I dunno how that works, exactly. It was a bit confusing. And so I hesitated and messed up and she ended up with Lance, which kind of sucked."

He straightened up a bit and ran his fingers along the edge of Merlin's face with a smile, "That is, until you asked me to dance, and I thought _fuck it_. Mad or stupid or mistake or whatever. You were all I saw the rest of that night. Well, you and the bartender. Needed to get the booze from _somewhere_."

Merlin laughed softly. Arthur looked strangely pensive, staring at Merlin as if he were trying to figure out how he was put together.

"It's almost a bit creepy, really," he mumbled, "How easy it is to let everything else disappear when I'm with you."

When Merlin left Camelot to go home for the holidays, he felt good about it - it would be nice to go back to his mother for a while, to make sure she was okay and to grieve together over the grim revelation from a few weeks back. And it was nice to feel that he would be looking forward to getting back, he had someone to miss and someone who would be missing him. His reunion with Hunith was tearful but also full of smiles, and she was very glad to hear his good news. She asked after his health, and that of Gaius, who Merlin still occasionally visited, although he hadn't really dropped by him much lately. Around Christmas Eve, a thick envelope arrived from a woman Hunith had been corresponding with in Bosnia, in Balinor's hometown. Inside were some pictures she had found with him in them - gathered from people who knew their family before they were wiped out. Hunith choked up almost immediately upon seeing them. All those years ago, a short time after she found out she was pregnant, she had had a breakdown resulting in her throwing out all the photos she had of herself and her child's father, something she had regretted the moment it was too late, and then every day since. For Merlin, the experience was strange - seeing the face of a man he had never known, but who should be familiar. He could see the resemblance - he had the same dark hair, and there was something in Balinor's facial structure that he recognised from his own reflection. They cried on each other's shoulders, but agreed that it was a nice Christmas gift to receive. Merlin took one of the smaller pictures, which showed Balinor and a woman in a shawl who looked to be his mother, and put it in his wallet.

Ealdor was nice and quiet compared to the hustle of Camelot. Mother and son had a calm Christmas together as always. One source of entertainment that was new, though, was the frequent text messages Merlin received from Arthur. Apparently, the Pendragon Christmas celebrations were rather different.

"BLARGH."

"Do you know what the HELL these are? I won't even tell you what I think it looks like."

This message was accompanied by a picture which Arthur, if his clothes hadn't so often "accidentally" found their way into other people's - mainly Merlin's - laundry bins, might have recognised as a set of plastic rings to keep socks from separating in the washing machine. Merlin wondered who on Earth would think he'd appreciate that gift.

"I do NOT like the suggestive way my uncle's looking at Morgana. He's on my mother's side, so they're not technically related, but he's twice her age and it's CREEPY."

"No-one has said a word for an hour and a half. I wonder what would happen if I just stood up and yelled "I'M GAY!"?"

"NO I'M NOT GOING TO DO THAT jeez. I'm bored, not suicidal"

"Big jet set Christmas party with the rich and famous. Bet you wish you hadn't left me alone now!"

"Lord have mercy. The whiny whoop-dee-doo lady is at this party. Kill me."

This made Merlin snigger. The "whiny whoop-dee-doo lady" was a singer whose song was quite frequently played on Camelot radio stations. Arthur harboured a strong dislike for it, and frequently pointed that out.

"I think whoop-dee-doo lady fancies me."

"MERLIN."

"Life lesson learned: Don't go to parties with whiny whoop-dee-doo ladies."

"No, seriously. There's now a picture of her circulating which has me in it."

"YES god damn it it IS EMBARRASSING. Erk."

"Thankgodtheydon'tknowmynameifyoubreatheaword ofthistoanyoneIwillkillyou"

"Oh, and by the way"

"I miss you."


	12. The Nightmare

Arthur wasn't really one for playing video games. However, since he was annoyingly rich and popular, he found it appropriate to own a gaming console or two. He was playing some stupid fighting game when Merlin returned after the holidays, slightly ahead in his score against Elyan. Gwaine was there, too, as well as a couple of other guys from the rugby team. They appeared to be having a tournament.

Preoccupied with the game and yelling at each other, they didn't notice the door open. Merlin saw this as an excellent opportunity, and snuck up on his unsuspecting boyfriend, who was very into his game. He waited for the right moment and laid his hands firmly over Arthur's eyes.

The language that ensued was very explicit indeed, but it was almost drowned out by the laughter of the spectators. Elyan's on-screen avatar easily kicked Arthur's into oblivion, and as a voice on the speaker announced that player two was the winner, Merlin let go. Arthur spun around on the sofa, yelling.

"How fucking _dare_ you! I swear, you are going to pay for - "

He stopped dead when he noticed the identity of his attacker. Merlin grinned. Arthur was just about as annoyed as he had hoped he would be, but he appeared also to be forgiven.

"Merlin!" he exclaimed and embraced him.

"Hi," said Merlin tenderly, hugging Arthur tight. As they let go, though, Arthur saw fit to give him a whack on the head.

"That's for ruining my game," he said sourly, "Just because I've missed you doesn't mean you're getting away with anything."

Merlin pouted, but had to laugh as he dumped his backpack in the corner and trotted into the kitchen to find something to eat. He was starving.

Turning back to his friends, Arthur announced, "I demand a rematch!" something that resulted in some grumbling, as it upset the previously agreed upon setup.

"Arthur," Merlin called from the kitchen, "Why do we have three packets of _scallops_?"

"They were on sale!"

"Do you know how to cook them?"

"No, I thought _you_ might."

Merlin shook his head to himself. At least Arthur had confidence in his abilities as a cook, though he wasn't sure that was entirely warranted.

His minds swam with dreams that night. He was forced to his knees on the cold, hard ground. Next to him, a figure, one he recognised from the pictures - it was Balinor. He braved to look him in the face, and he saw his father smile at him before a sharp bang made his father collapse to the ground. He tried to cry out, but his voice was somewhere else. He could feel the cold muzzle of a gun against his own neck, and when he looked down at the body on the ground, it was not Balinor anymore, it was Arthur.

His eyes flew open and his hands reached out and grabbed at their surroundings. His left hand found the edge of a bed - not his own, he realised - and his right found the soft underarm of a sleeping, but thankfully very alive Arthur. Well, he _had_ been sleeping, but of course, having his arm violently grabbed rudely awoke him.

"Merlin?" he asked, concerned. "Are you alright?"

Merlin slowly let go of Arthur's arm.

"Yes," he answered hoarsely, "Just a… A bad dream, that's all."

It was not the first time he had fallen asleep in Arthur's room, but he hadn't had a nightmare in there before. He was a little bit embarrassed to have woken him up. Though the heater was on and the room was nice and warm, he still felt cold from the dream.

Arthur rolled over and lay close to him. He seemed to be quite awake, which Merlin felt bad for, because the alarm clock on the bedside table showed the time to be three thirty-two.

"What did you dream about?"

"Dad," Merlin mumbled hesitantly.

Arthur nodded, as if he understood, and touched a hand to his cheek protectively. Then he rolled out of the bed, grabbing Merlin's wrist and tugging at him.

"Come on," he urged.

"What are - ?"

"Just come."

They ventured in the kitchen, where Merlin sat on the counter while Arthur got out some mugs and filled them with milk.

"Morgana used to have nightmares when her died, too," he explained, putting the mugs in the microwave, "She'd scream and make a load of racket. That was right after she'd moved in, too, so I remember it was quite scary."

"And the milk?"

"Margie always used to make her warm milk with honey, and she'd feel better. She was the lady who helped take care of us when we were kids - dad wasn't able to be there all the time."

The microwave beeped, and Arthur extracted the mugs, taking a vat of honey from the fridge.

"That is also why Morgana always takes honey in her tea. It makes her feel better."

He handed Merlin one of the mugs and kissed his forehead.

The milk was comforting, and warmed him up on the inside. It was sweet; Arthur had used a lot of honey. He felt almost like a child, safe. The dream was fading from his memory.

"It can't have been easy," he said to Arthur, "For any of you."

"I guess… I guess not. Well, it was worst for her, you know, adjusting. She and dad have a complicated relationship to say the least. One minute they are closer than anything, the next…" he sighed, "I've lost count on how many times I've had to negotiate peace between them. She had a rough time, you know, but it wasn't easy for him, either. He may be a bit stubborn and at times he doesn't seem to think ahead, but he's my dad, you know. There's no-one I look up to or respect as much as him. He's a good man…"

His voice trailed away. His eyes were directed at Merlin, but it was as if he were looking at something else, far, far away.

_So are you,_ thought Merlin, _Probably an even better one._ He wanted to ask so many things, but he didn't know where to begin, and he suspected now wasn't the moment. He wanted to know about Arthur's childhood, his family - and whether or not he had any plans of telling Uther about Merlin. Instead of asking, he gently took Arthur's hand and pulled him back into the present with a calm "Thank you."

Arthur's eyes slipped back to focus on Merlin's face.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "That was a bit of a… A weird digression."

Merlin took the empty mug from Arthur's hand and filled both the mugs with water, leaving them to soak. He could wash them up in the morning.

"That's nothing to apologise for," he said gently. He wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist.

"I feel much better now," he spoke into his ear, "Thank you."

Arthur sighed again, this time with something more like content. A hint of a yawn was detectable underneath it.

"Sorry for waking you," Merlin added quietly, "Let's go back to bed, yeah?"

"Yeah."


	13. The Words

It was well into the spring semester, and yet again Merlin was drowsily making his toast on a chilly, rather unfriendly morning. There was all cause to dread the upcoming day, which promised to be full of tests and trials. Then again, that gloom might just be part of his morning grumpiness. He felt like he was falling back asleep where he stood when he heard the sound of someone entering the kitchen behind him.

"Morning," said Arthur's voice.

"Mhm," said Merlin, not much more awake for having company.

An arm was wound around his neck, and Arthur ruffled his hair.

"You look absolutely terrible," he commented fondly.

"Yeah, well, I'm in a hurry this morning, see, and if I looked my best, you would be all over me and I'd not be getting anywhere at all."

"Mhm. And how's that working out for you?"

Arthur turned Merlin around to face him.

"Obviously not very well," the latter said drily, chewing on his toast, "I must be more irresistible than I imagined."

Arthur laughed and let go of him, then he made to prepare his own breakfast. Merlin turned and saw his chance to smack Arthur's backside before hurrying out. He was quick, but this being on a tired morning, not quick enough - before he got out of harm's way, a slice of untoasted bread hit him in the back of the head and subsequently flopped feebly to the ground. He stopped and looked back.

"What a way to waste food!" he chided with a slight smile. He then had to dodge a second slice, and stuck his tongue out at Arthur before ducking out of view and heading for class.

He survived quite well. By the time the double lecture had finished, he was laughing and chatting with Gwen, knackered after concentrating for too long, but generally happy. The fact that they ran into Arthur didn't exactly make matters worse. Though the atmosphere between Arthur and Gwen had been a bit weird for a while after they'd both gotten into relationships - they'd needed to find a new balance in what they meant to each other now that they were no longer potential lovers. However, that awkwardness seemed to have all but dissipated, and the greeting between them was warm and friendly. Gwen had to excuse herself, though, as she had a meeting with her advisor concerning an internship opportunity. As she darted off, Arthur pulled Merlin close and kissed him rather more passionately than he'd usually do in front of people, which caught Merlin slightly off guard.

"I thought you weren't one for such extravagant public displays of affection," he confessed, leaning comfortably in Arthur's arms.

"Well, if I'm going to be gay, I might as well go the whole hog," Arthur boldly stated.

Merlin stifled a giggle. There was just too many interesting ways to interpret that statement. His glee earned him a punch in the arm.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, you filthy little sod."

"I didn't say anything!"

"Yeah, well, I can read your mind."

From the way Arthur's hand trailed across his back, Merlin was almost inclined to believe him. He closed his eyes, and his throat made an involuntary little noise. Arthur chuckled.

"Merlin, you really are far to easy a conquest."

"Hm, well, who's to say _I_ didn't conquer _you_?"

"As if. I am without a trace of doubt the conqueror in this relationship, as you well know."

"Ah, but remember, _you_ were out of _my_ league, _I_ asked _you_ to dance…"

"Pfft. Well, I kissed you first, and asked you to be my boyfriend. I think those are more specifically conqueror acts."

"Hey, I started the conversation," Merlin saw fit to remind him, "And that kiss could hardly be counted, besides, it confused you as much as it did me."

"Well, maybe." He kissed Merlin again. "How 'bout that, then?"

"Not confusing at all."

With a triumphant expression, Arthur abruptly let go of him and pulled away. Merlin almost lost his balance, having leant on Arthur, and cried out in surprise as he steadied himself.

"I have a lecture!" Arthur said apologetically as he walked away.

"And you're just going leave me behind like this?" Merlin asked in mock indignation, "You are positively _heartless_!" he called out before leaving for home.

It's generally considered a bad idea to nap on the middle of the day if you want to keep your sleep pattern somewhat normal. However, university students generally don't give a toss about sleeping patterns, and neither did Merlin. Truth to be told, though, he hadn't initially planned to fall asleep on this particular occasion - he was reviewing some of the topics he would soon be studying more in-depth in class. Unfortunately, however fond he was of chemistry, the textbooks were rather dull, and seeing as this was repetition a well, the novelty of discovery was not present. And perhaps it was a foolish choice to sit reading on his bed, which seemed to get softer and more welcoming by the second. Before he knew it, he was woken up by a knock on the door. His face was stuck to a page about radiation, though luckily, he hadn't made any creases he couldn't smooth out without worry. He was too busy waking up to answer the knock, but since it had been courtesy of Arthur, who was polite enough to perform it but not patient enough to wait for a response, the door was flung open right away anyway.

Merlin placed the book on the floor, narrowly getting it to safety before the bed became a dangerous place indeed with the arrival of Arthur on top of the covers.

"I'm back," Arthur rather unnecessarily announced - Merlin was currently squeezed firmly in his embrace. He would have had to be in a coma not to notice his presence.

"Fuhugh ghhua," he replied, his face smashed into his pillow.

"Sorry," Arthur chuckled as he loosened up a bit. Merlin's face emerged from the pillow, slightly dishevelled.

"Welcome home," he muttered.

"Your room is an absolute _mess_," Arthur said, lying on his back now and looking around.

"Right, yeah, because yours is completely spotless."

"Well, at least I don't have, what is that, a _tower_ of coffee cups? How much caffeine do you _drink_?"

"There are five of them, and they're from last semester." He could tell from Arthur's face that he was about to make some confused and disgusted comment, so he pressed on before he had the chance.

"I keep them out of sentimentality, because I only ever drink that type of fancy coffee when I have something to celebrate. So each cup represents an achievement of sorts."

Arthur nodded along with the explanation.

"That's a bit gay," he commented.

Merlin elbowed him in the side.

"_You're_ a bit gay," he pointed out.

"I suppose that's true. Go on, then," he said, ruffling Merlin's hair, "What are the five achievements from last semester?"

"That first one was getting a job. The second one, that wasn't me, technically, it was when Gwen got a 100 on a test. It's more like, achievement by association, you know? The third one is when I finished that big lab project that I'd been worrying over, the fourth is when I_ quit_ my job, and the fifth one," he paused for dramatic effect and smiled at Arthur, "Is you."

Arthur just looked at him for a bit, then he laughed quietly.

"I'm one of your five achievements, am I?"

"Yep. Told you I was the conqueror."

This earned him an attack of tickling from Arthur.

"Aah! No, stop. Stop!" Merlin screamed, giggling frantically.

Of course Arthur didn't heed this, and what seemed to Merlin an eternity of cackling and begging for mercy passed before he got bored with it and relaxed, his arms around Merlin and his head lying on Merlin's shoulder. He had a habit of placing it there, which his boyfriend very much appreciated. Merlin prided himself that his shoulder made a good pillow, and he loved the way Arthur's face nestled into his neck, as if it were destined to lie there. He was heaving for breath after the tickling attack. He never used to be ticklish, but when it came to Arthur, he was helpless. But now it was quiet, he could just run his hand through Arthur's hair, and as his own breath stabilised, he could feel Arthur's, warm and damp, on his collarbone.

This must surely be the closest you could get to absolute perfection.

He inclined his head down to Arthur's, and kissed his ear, simply because that was the first place that presented itself available.

The words "I love you" fell out of his mouth almost of their own accord.

He felt Arthur tense up, and the breath on his skin paused for a second. Suddenly he worried. He had never actually said that before. It had always true, but maybe it shouldn't be said quite yet.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Arthur mumbled breathlessly and looked up, but he was grinning, and so Merlin's worry faded. Whatever killed him about the notion of love, it seemed to be a welcome danger. He kissed him again, but he didn't say it back. He was apparently happy to hear the words, but returning the sentiment needed time.

Merlin had nothing against waiting.


	14. The Disaster

This day was already a dreary day for the chemistry students. The rain pouring down with a vengeance provided a soundtrack to a double lecture of the most confusing sort, and its physical form was not the most comfortable of congratulations when the lecture was finally over. Just from walking home, Merlin was soaked to his skin from head to toe. When he got home, Arthur seemed not to be in the best of moods, either - he half-heartedly laughed at Merlin and commented on how he looked like a drowned cat, but it was evident that something was preoccupying him. After Merlin had taken a warm shower and put on some dry clothes, he returned to investigate as to what exactly was wrong.

Arthur spent a moment just looking at him.

"You have very nice eyebrows," he said, evidently trying to avoid something.

"Thank you," said Merlin, his tone prompting Arthur to get to the real point.

Arthur sighed.

"Dad's coming over in a week," he said.

"Ah."

Merlin cringed inwardly. Uther still didn't know of their relationship - Arthur had at one point excused the secrecy with wanting to tell him when he was 'on their home ground', as if when it was an advantage in sports, surely it must be in communication of contentious information as well. Merlin wasn't quite sure he believed that, but he didn't push the matter. Arthur was bold as none other, but when it came to his father, it was obvious, no matter how much he tried to hide it, that he was shy of causing offence.

"So, do you want me to clear out like last time?"

Arthur didn't laugh or act surprised, he just shook his head.

"No."

He smiled, an almost coy, sheepish grin, and continued,

"I mean, you do spend most nights in my room anyway, so I thought this might serve as an excuse to move your stuff in with you. On a permanent basis. I mean," he hastily added when seeing Merlin's face in reaction to the suggestion, "If you want to."

Merlin realised he must be looking rather reluctant and worried. He was, but not towards switching rooms.

"Oh, no, I do want to," he mumbled, and then giggled nervously. "I was just thinking about meeting your dad. Uther sounds pretty scary."

"Don't worry. He won't bite."

Though Arthur had said that last line with a laugh, it did not quite shake away the nervousness they both felt, and the dread only grew as the week progressed.

When Uther finally arrived, Merlin was very on edge. His probably clueless 'father-in-law' seemed charming enough, chatting away with Morgana when he entered. She was throwing her head back and laughing, so whatever he had just said must have been funny. When he looked across the room and saw Merlin, he seemed a bit puzzled. Morgana quickly picked up on his confusion.

"Oh, yes. This is Merlin," she informed, as if his presence was not strange at all. Well, it wasn't strange, was it?

"Pleased to meet you," Merlin said, proud of how steady he managed to keep his voice, and offering his hand to be shook. Uther accepted it.

"Uther Pendragon," he informed, as if anyone was in doubt.

And that was it. No further conversation, no hint that Uther knew who Merlin was. He didn't know whether Arthur had informed him of the situation before his arrival - he suspected not, because surely Uther would have mentioned it, and surely he would not have been this casual. True, behind Uther's cordial smile, Merlin was certain he could spot coldness, and his presence still made him feel like with one false move, he would be in big trouble, but that could conceivably be his fear playing tricks on his mind. Either way, he elected to be as silent as he could throughout the evening.

It went fairly well. At first he nearly panicked when Arthur tried to subtly squeeze his hand for confidence, but Uther didn't seem notice, and it kept his spirits up.

Things only really started going downhill when it was getting quite late.

"Right, Martin,"

"Merlin," Merlin corrected apologetically. He almost felt bad for having the wrong name.

"Merlin, sorry." Uther's voice had no trace of remorse. "Shouldn't you be getting home now?"

It was one of those moments where everything seemed to freeze for a second. It felt like someone had poured a bucket of water down Merlin's neck. He didn't quite know how to respond and desperately glanced at Arthur for help. The look on his face made it obvious that he hadn't told Uther anything about their relationship. Merlin didn't know whether he wanted to slap him or hug him, because on one hand, this was not a particularly clever situation he had put them in, but on the other, he knew his reasons. He hadn't known what to say, he had been afraid of disappointing this man who he respected so much, and in the end postponed it for too long. Guilt was quite evident from the way he stared into the air in front of him, expressly not looking at his boyfriend nor his father.

The silence may have lasted only seconds, but needless to say, it felt like a lifetime of doom. Should he tell the truth, or should he chicken out, lie, and claim to be a friend crashing on the sofa for a night? It was Morgana who finally had the guts to choose the former option and say, ever so casually,

"Oh, no, he lives here."

"What?" Uther didn't yet look angry, just confused. When he received no answer, he repeated the question with a threateningly fake laugh, asserting that this better be a joke, "What do you mean he _lives here_?"

"Yes, he does. He, uh." said Arthur, regaining his power of speech, "He's my boyfriend, actually."

His voice was so calm, far too calm.

"Excuse me?"

"My boyfriend."

"What - You - _Boyfriend_? Arthur, I'm not sure I follow."

"It's not terribly complicated," Arthur insisted, "He's my boyfriend, and he lives here, because… Well, because I love him."

His voice was still composed, but Merlin could feel him tremble slightly next to him. He grabbed a hold of Arthur's hand, which was still resting between them, and squeezed it in support. Though the moment was tense, Arthur had said he loved him, and his heart made a note that it should rejoice in this when the danger was over.

Uther didn't react for another eternal few seconds. He then scoffed.

"You're joking, Arthur," he said, making the words sound more like an order than an observation.

"As a matter of fact, I am not."

"Arthur, stop this. We both know you cannot be a _faggot_ - "

Morgana chose this moment to cut in.

"Evening news," she said curtly and switched the TV on. A very awkward pause in the conversation followed, as the conflict had not been allowed to get to a head and they weren't quite sure what to do with themselves. The four sat in an ominous silence, watching the news programme roll on, each equally certain that the inevitable shouting match had been postponed rather than cancelled.

The news constituted a good way to distract everyone, but for Merlin's mood, it didn't do very good things. He was already shaken, and since the first report was from a war zone, guns and executions were rife. He wouldn't normally let himself watch this, because he knew what it still did to him. But right now, he didn't dare move, never mind speak.

Then, as if some higher power had decided to make the night as unendurable as possible, a segment came along where the subject of paperless asylum seekers was brought up. It was too much. The dispute of whether deportation was suitable or not, the discussion of laws concerning family reunions…

_Deep breaths,_ he thought, _Just breathe, breathe, keep breathing…_

Arthur's hand gripped his tighter. That would have helped more if Uther hadn't chosen that moment to comment on the television.

"Such nonsense. It's all an opportunist stirrup; they'd never send anyone back if they were in any real danger!"

Merlin almost immediately rose from his seat.

"I think I'll go to bed now," he announced in a monotone, "You guys have… Catching up to do."

He didn't leave any time to think about whether or not that was an appropriate thing to say. That his actions were strange was obvious even to him, but he couldn't change that now. He would have liked to look Arthur in the eye as he left so that he wouldn't worry too much, but he was afraid he'd lose his calm facade, and that wouldn't exactly decrease worry. Arthur couldn't follow him right now, he knew that. With Uther to placate, he didn't want him to. He got into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, letting his tears soak his pillow. What an absolutely horrible evening. He lay still, trying to wean the distress out of his system, but not to fall asleep. Sleeping didn't feel like a good idea, reality was nightmarish enough at the moment, he feared the guns and the blood and the sight of his loved ones lying dead.

After a while, the tears subsided. He could hear well that the brave efforts to keep argument at bay had ceased to have any effect.

The voices were muffled by the walls, but the essence was clear enough - Uther was disappointed, Arthur demanded a good reason to condemn their relationship, and the answers on both sides fell short of the other's expectation. After a while of shouting, Morgana's shrill voice joined the choir, and gradually seemed to take over as Arthur's faded. Merlin worried if he might have given up. Then it roared up again, with more stability and authority than Merlin had ever heard in anyone before.

"_ENOUGH_ NOW."

And it did the miracle of making both the others fall silent for a second. Then Morgana's voice sounded again.

"You have _no _right to call yourself our father!"

A door slammed, probably the one to her bedroom. As Merlin heard the door to their room open, another door was aggressively shut, this one presumably Uther. Arthur, by contrast, quietly closed the door behind him as he entered.

For a while, he stood still, lit by the streetlights from outside. Merlin had never seen him look so lost or so tired.

"I always protect him," he finally sighed wearily. He looked as if he were about to cry.

"I always protect him, but tonight I hate him just as much as she does. Oh, Merlin…"

He crept onto the bed and grabbed both his hands, "I am so sorry. Don't ever forgive me for letting him say those things. For letting him do that to you."

Merlin put a hand on his face.

"I forgive you whether you want me to or not," he said sincerely, "Though I think there are better ways of coming out."

Arthur smiled briefly, then his face sank back into that despondent look.

"He is my father," he mumbled, "And I love and respect him just as much as I'm supposed to, but sometimes I can't help thinking that it's all his fault." His voice took on a tone of bitterness. "It is, though, isn't it. It's his fault that I hated the way you made me feel, that for so long, I couldn't even think of you without feeling rotten. Sometimes, sometimes _still_, when I look at you I feel disgusting. Like I'm the lowest of the low, like the very happiness you give me makes me unworthy of _being_ happy… And that's all him, and that's why I just couldn't tell him…"

"But you did," Merlin said quietly, brushing away a tear from Arthur's cheek, "You… You said you loved me."

"Yes." Arthur leaned in even closer, so their faces were less than an inch apart. He looked into Merlin's eyes, unblinking. "I do love you, Merlin. And there is nothing wrong with that. No matter what he says."

And with that, Merlin was pulled into Arthur's arms for a tight embrace.

"I won't let anything or anyone hurt you again," Arthur whispered.

Merlin replied with a kiss. He knew it was a foolish promise; Arthur couldn't control the words and actions of people like his father, or those forces of the world that were likely to cause him harm. But it was a loving promise, and a sincere one.

"Nor I you," he whispered back - the promise just as impossible to keep, but the words soaked in the same devotion.

They fell asleep like that, and despite his bleak assumptions, Merlin had no bad dreams that night.

Nor any night after.


End file.
